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winchesterandpie · 2 years

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Done waiting

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!reader

Word Count: 1621

Warnings: Very self-indulgent, major insecurities, lots of fluff/comfort

A/N: I really appreciate the support on the other Rooster fics I've been posting--you guys are making it fun to post! This is based on a post that tumblr won't let me link, though I think it was originally intended to have a more goofy tone, so my apologies. Nonetheless, I enjoyed writing it! Without further ado, here you go!

You had been best friends with Rooster since you met in the Top Gun program. Somewhere along the line, you’d fallen in love with him. If you were someone else, you might have told him. However, you were well aware that he couldn’t feel the same, so you never said anything.

It was easier to ignore after Top Gun, when you were both on distant assignments and only able to text or call occasionally. Now, summoned back to Top Gun, for a mission they wouldn’t tell you about until you arrived, you were terrified. For yourself, sure, but also for Rooster. The fear for him was what had your feelings threatening to bubble over.

You needed to get it under control tonight, before the training started. Unfortunately, Rooster was making that difficult.

“Hey, are you okay, Hawk?” The man himself nudged your shoulder, snapping you back to awareness

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.” You flashed a tight smile before taking a swig of your drink.

“‘Bout what?”

“They’ve called us all back here. It’s gotta be something serious, I just can’t figure out what.”

“I’m sure they’ll tell us tomorrow. No sense in worrying just yet.”

“Who said I was worried, Roose?”

“Please, I know you. Your eyebrows draw together here,” he said, lifting his hand to touch the spot between them, “and they lift just a little.”

“It’s that obvious, huh?” you chuckled.

“Just to me.” Rooster’s half-smile matched yours. “C’mon, let’s go for a walk. We can catch up.”

“So, how was overseas? Meet anyone special?” you asked once you were out of the Hard Deck.

He laughed, leaning into you to stay upright. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“Oh, I find that hard to believe, big guy. They weren’t swooning over your every flex?” you teased.

“I’ll have you know I don’t just go around flexing.”

“Mmhmm, whatever you say.”

“What about you, then?” Rooster grinned, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What about me?”

“Meet anybody lately?”

“Nah, that was never my thing.” You brushed it off, dropping your gaze. You hadn’t had anyone interested in you before, and you weren’t going to start moping about it now. Certainly you weren’t planning to tell Bradley anything about it. Instead, you turned it back to him once again. “Really? No crushes, no dates, nothing?”

“Well, I…” It was his time to duck his head, catching your attention. “Not--”

“Uh uh, what was that?”

“What was what?” He turned toward you, stopping in the sand.

“You hesitated! There’s definitely someone.” Despite your teasing, his clear interest in someone hit you like a punch in the gut.

“Who said there was someone?” he deflected.

“Please, I know you,” you parroted his words from earlier.

“Fine, alright,” he admitted with a sigh. “There is someone I like.”

“Ooh, and the whole Navy is full of broken hearts for it.” Your heart was among them. “When did that start? Have you said anything to them?”

“I’ve been dropping the most insanely obvious hints for a few years now.” He started walking again, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly before he spoke again. “No response from her.”

“Ok, but what you think is obvious isn’t always actually obvious. You’re sure she would pick up on it?” Quietly, you told yourself that Rooster was your best friend. If this was how he would be happy, you resigned yourself to helping him win over his mystery crush.

“Phoenix said she could see it from a mile away.”

“You told Phoenix before me?” That stung.

“No, she saw it happen. Came up to me to tease me afterward.” It stung less, but the ache in your chest didn’t lessen with it.

“She sounds a little stupid, no offense.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, not stupid. She’s quite smart, actually. Just a bit dense.”

The undeniable fondness in his voice hurt. You had never been under any illusion that he would be interested in you. Bradley was so far out of your league in every way that mattered. Given time, you knew you would get better at acting. Perhaps you would even get past your feelings for him.

“Maybe you just need to be more obvious?” you suggested.

“How would I do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe just say it to her. Maybe ‘Hey, I love you,’ or something like that.”

“Not a bad idea,” he acknowledged before turning to address you by your name. Your real name, not your callsign. “Hey, I love you.”

“Exactly like that.” You swallowed the hurt of knowing he wouldn’t ever mean that about you no matter how much you wished he would. “Now just tell it to her. And let me know how it goes.” You bumped his shoulder with yours.

“Wow.”

“And y’know, if she still doesn’t get it, she’s too dumb for you, Roose.”

He said your name again.

You wished he would stop. Stop making you melt with just his voice. Stop making you feel things you knew better than to feel. Stop making you wonder if he might just reciprocate. Stop making you wish for what might be.

“What?”

“Do you really not know?” he asked, his face scrunching in confusion.

“Know what? You’re not making any sense.”

“Hawk, it’s you. I love you.”

You laughed incredulously and something like anger grew in his face. Still, you shook your head as you started off down the beach again. “No, no you don’t.”

He stood there for a second, stunned, before jogging after you. “What the hell do you mean I don’t?”

“I mean you don’t love me. You can’t…” You cut yourself off, trying not to cry. “You can’t love me.”

The anger in his face creased into concern when he heard the sob you choked off. His arms opened, reaching for you. You went to him without hesitation, wrapping your arms around him as you tried to force your shoulders not to shake. His hand held the back of your head, keeping you secure against him. Bradley’s breathing was deep and even, something you used to slow your own gasping breaths. He held you for a long minute, even after you calmed.

“Why can’t I love you?” he asked quietly.

“Why would anyone?” you returned his question with another. “Especially you. You’re… everything--brilliant, talented, funny, gorgeous, kind, everything--and I… I’m just me. You could have anyone you wanted and I just don’t see how you could want me.”

He squeezed you tighter for a minute before he pulled back to look at you. You avoided his gaze, still sniffling a little. His hand moved to your chin, gently encouraging you to lift your head. After a moment, you did, bringing your eyes to his briefly.

“Sweetheart, I--”

You cut him off with a hand over his mouth. “If you’re going to keep talking, I want you to be sure you mean it. I had a guy ask me out as a joke once and I don’t think I could handle it if you did that to me too.”

Bradley took hold of your wrist, moving your hand so it rested over his heart. “I promise you, I would never do that.” He waited for you to nod before he continued. “I do love you. I have since you gave me that old record.”

“Really? That was all the way back when we were in Top Gun.” When you chuckled weakly, his lips tilted up into a half-smile.

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to work up to asking you out since then. Better late than never, I guess.”

“Technically, you still haven’t.” You might have winked at him if you didn’t still feel raw. As it was, you managed a teasing tone that broadened his grin.

“You’re absolutely right. Allow me to rectify that mistake.” Bradley tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear. This time when he said your name, delicious shivers ran down your spine. “Let me take you on a date?”

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” You felt warm as he looked at you in the moonlight. Perhaps it was the reflection of that light that seemed to glow in his eyes that made you braver. “I love you too, Bradley.”

“Yeah?” Shyness colored his tone--a rarity for him.

“Since you found me that time on the beach. You know which one.” You smiled, watching his hazel eyes. “I… I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have laughed.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I understand,” he reassured immediately. “I wish you knew how amazing you are, but until then, can you trust me to believe it for both of us?”

“There’s no one on this earth I trust more than you,” you said, your gaze turning a little uncertain after a moment. “You might have to remind me once in a while, though.”

He pulled you back into his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before leaning his cheek there. “I’ll remind you as often as you need for as long as you let me.”

You were fighting tears again, this time wondering how you had possibly gotten so lucky. Bradley didn’t say anything, just held you close. He let you be the one to pull back, and you tucked yourself into his side for the walk back to his car.

“So, about that date,” you started, grinning up at him. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, I was thinking we could make dinner, get ice cream, the whole nine yards.”

“When are you gonna pick me up, sunshine?”

“Same as always, sweetheart,” he squeezed you closer by the shoulders, kissing your forehead. “6 sharp from the locker room after whatever their training is tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun maverick

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siderealdei · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 - Day 7

Original fiction for Whumptober Day 7.

No. 7: “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

Can you hear me?

….

…

Guess not. Fuck. Well, there’s nothing I can do from my end, so I guess I’ll just – wait. See if you get the radio working on your end. Fuck!

Ow, ouch, shit. Shouldn’t have punched the wall. There’s just nothing at all to do in this fucking tomb – joking, joking.

Well. Hell. Maybe it will be my tomb. If you can’t get that radio working again, I’m probably going to die in here. No one will be able to find this place without a link, so I’ll – well, I’ll probably suffocate. If I don’t go crazy first from lack of space and lack of contact and –

Yeah. Yeah, shutting up now.

…

Still nothing, huh?

Hey, you know, I read somewhere that when you’re in a cave, deep below the earth, where there’s no light, eventually your brain just starts making up shit, pretending you can see shadows moving or something like that. Just, giving itself input. Like a glitching computer. I’ve kind of experienced that, I think. At night, when I’m asleep in my room. The soundproofing’s so good I can’t hear anything – except maybe I can. The house settling, or the neighbors playing music. But what if that’s just all in my head?

I wonder what I might hear this time. If I start hallucinating again.

Hah, sorry. Said I’d stop this line of thinking. I just can’t seem to help it. Anxiety or paranoia. The lack of anything is just really getting to me. I’m so used to you responding as soon as I start babbling or even before. You always know right when to interfere, to say something when I’m too wrapped up in my own head or the readouts.

Do you think that’s why they deployed the EMP? Or whatever it is I saw on radar right before everything went black. Do you think they knew what it would do to me and everyone else on watch to have things go silent like this? For all the readouts to go dark and then to plummet to the fucking ground like an amusement park ride?

Thank fuck all the failsafes for that part of the balloon-tombs are mechanical.

…is someone outside?

…

Hello? Is someone out there? I can – I can hear you, scratching away. Please don’t be a bear, please, please, do not be a bear looking for food, shit, that’s the most terrifying thought I’ve had yet, I do not want to be eaten, come on, I’m a city girl, this nature shit is for other people.

Yeah, that’s why I’ve never taken you up on all your crazy backpacking invites during our mandatory rest periods. I’m much happier in the city, only ever seeing all this greenery and these animals on TV or from way up high. But now I’ve crashed back down in the middle of nowhere, whatever was underneath my nice safe pod, and there’s probably a fucking bear or three trying to get through the tin can to the delicious meat inside –

No, wait, not delicious. I’m, uh, stringy and lean and my shitty diet means that I’m junk food, unfilling –

Huh. Huh, I think the scratching stopped.

What –

Shit, what’s that? There’s a different sound now. I don’t – shit, I really don’t like this. I’d go so far as to say I purely hate whatever the fuck is happening and only like fifty percent of that comes from the fact that I have no clue what’s happening. Please, please just be me hallucinating, that’s honestly the best outcome here –

Hey, uh. Hey, if you can, by some fucking miracle hear me, or if you recover the recording, provided there is one given that I still don’t know why I crashed, hey, would you – you’ll remember me, right? We were honestly friends, right? It wasn’t just us being partnered for the Watch. It wasn’t just in my head.

Right?

If that’s true – you know what I want you to do. If there’s anything left of me. But also with my – with my stuff, and notifying people, and – yeah. Yeah, thank you.

Fuck, I’m so scared, and I don’t even know if I should be.

…

I love you. Not, uh, not romantically. I can’t. I don’t. You know. But yeah. You’re – I love you. I just want to say that, before.

I don’t know if the mic can pick it up. Shit, I don’t know if this damn mic is even working. But. I can hear them. Cutting through. It’s definitely – I mean. No assumptions. But it doesn’t sound like our people. And. And it hasn’t been long enough, I don’t think. Not from what I remember seeing on the map before everything went dark.

I’m so scared. I’m so, so scared. Please. Please, just –

I love you. I love you. I love you. I –

#whumptober2023 #no.7 #radio silence #can you hear me #o-fic #fic #my writing

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mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune · 1 year

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Cain And Abel Are Victims Of Toxic-Priests (And I Kind Of Want To Give Grandpa Cain A Hug...)

[Note: It’s Okay If No One Reads This, And Wait for a Video Game Theory Post....also Please Don’t Reblog Without Permission.]

if some info I found is correct, it would make sense if it were some Priests that were accepting the offerings...

as well as the whole Cain going through a depression...

plus I can’t really see Cain as being originally evil, seeing how Abel may have suffered from a certain sin himself, which I’m gonna say “Toxic-Ego”

I think I might fall under the Melancholy Sin at times (but I can make sure to find things to make me feel happy, and maybe eating something helps.), which can’t really be helped, even if I am suppose to be a Earth Angel, but I’m a Defective type and could also be called a “Glitch Earth Angel.”

plus it might be possible those Priests, were telling lies and for all we know they could of been working for Caligastia or Daligastia.

I mean it might be hard to believe that Lucifer use to be a Planetary Prince.

so it might also be hard to believe about the whole possibility that Caligastia or Daligastia were involved somehow with those Toxic-Priests.

even if Cain ended up doing something really bad, but at the same time, he is a victim from his brother acting with a toxic-ego and his parents not really doing much of anything to stop Abel’s ego and making Cain’s depression worse instead of becoming healed and getting better.

and it might be weird, but I couldn’t help but have thoughts of wanting to give Cain a hug, even if both he and his brother were possibly victims from toxic-priests who for all we know, might of been working for Caligastia or Daligastia...

but it doesn’t excuse Abel from his poor actions, or him being half of the reason that Cain’s spiritual depression got worse and reached a breaking point...

maybe Abel is the Embodiment Of Ego...

and no one should encourage him for that...and I am calling him out on his part of making his brother’s depression worse...

if it was possible, I wouldn’t just grab Abel by his ear, I would give him a punch in his insensitive face...I never did that before, but if I can have the thoughts of wanting to groin punch Mammon, then I can have thoughts of wanting to punch Abel for being half the reason Cain fell fully into that darkness.

then again, maybe Abel should get the groin punch as well...

Cain might need both hugs and therapy...

even if Adam wasn’t 100% a good dad, but if some info is right, at least there is one good thing about him, he tried to discourage animal sacrifices...

so he gets some good points in at least trying to stop his Embodiment of Ego of a Son....but then there is the thoughts that came to mind after reading a bit of info about those two brothers...

that if Cain hadn’t well did what he did to Abel, there is the possibility that Abel might of became much worse later on....

some might disagree, but if you think about it, it could still be possible.

even if what Cain did was still wrong, but at the same time he might of unknowingly saved lives from the monster that Abel would of become in the future.

even if Adam did try to be a good parent to his sons, and yeah even if Cain’s bio-Dad was someone else, Adam is still his Dad, and can be seen as his Real Dad, even if they aren’t biologically related.

but Adam possibly never tried to stop Abel’s Toxic-Ego from crossing the line, a line to which would end up costing his life.

and it might still be possible that while Abel did use Animal Sacrifices, but it could be possible he could of been tricked into using a Human Sacrifice.

we know that there is some half-truths and half-lies, and we might not be seeing the full story on why Cain had took his brother’s life.

and I’m not sure if the info I asked about before when using my pendulum, is true and what really happen or it was just one of those pranks...

but if it is really true, than Cain may have had someone he deeply cared for that was the light in his darkness, who he loved like a little sister, who was a Earth Angel....and if it is true (and not a prank from my pendulum...) that Abel was tricked into using their own little sister as a sacrifice, then it could of broke something in Cain and made him reach a dangerous breaking point, which ended up costing Abel his life.

and even if those Toxic-Priests had accept Abel’s offerings, they might not accept that kind of offering, plus if the Heavenly Father did accept, he wouldn’t do it for Abel, he would do it to keep the soul safe, and Abel would be punished for his actions, even if some might disagree with this, but it’s fine that not everyone agrees about it.

but it doesn’t mean that Abel was in the right, both he and his brother did some wrong in their life, but only one of them fell victim to depression that took a dangerous turn when a line was crossed.

and it still isn’t okay for Abel to take animals lives in the way he did, it’s one thing to do so for food and clothes, but what Abel did wasn’t okay.

Cain may have accidentally became a Monster, but Abel was a Monster before Cain became one by accident, but still....Cain being viewed as the villain and Abel as the tragic hero, isn’t right...

while both were tricked by some Toxic-Priests, I mean if some info is right and some Priests would show up and accept the offerings that Abel gave, while rejecting Cain’s offerings...

but even if the two brothers were tricked, and it’s possible that the Heavenly Father would NEVER accept such a thing, not even Earthly Mother or Mother of All Angels would accept such a thing....

I wonder if technically the Mother of All Angels, would kind of be the Grandmother of All Earth Angels in this modern era.

yeah, weird thought....and then there is the whole theory I have that the book “Confessions Of A Rebel Angel: The Wisdom Of The Watchers And The Destiny Of Planet Earth” by Timothy Wyllie and the book “Stones Of The Goddess: Crystals For The Divine Feminine” by Nicholas Person, might have some kind of connection, even if the two don’t know each other and had wrote two different books with the help of other people.

and I still think it might be possible that Onya and Lilith, may be one in the same, and Onya who would become Lilith, was kidnap when she was close to death’s door, and she was healed and ended up with amnesia.

plus another theory I have is that Lilith wasn’t just a human, she was a Earth Angel.....so yeah, it is possible that some Angels had kidnap a Earth Angel and tried to make her be Adam’s wife...

also this is another theory, but before she became well a succubus...

she might of been the embodiment of empathy, which I do have another theory about that, that has to do with Earthly Virtues, I can talk about that later in another post....but not before posting some other stuff as well, like one of them being a video game theory and another being a drawing.

I may have had two depressions, and the second one lasting a bit longer than that other one, but Cain’s depression may have been far worse than mine was.

also it’s fine if this doesn’t really get read by anyone, or if some do read it, I guess it’s fine if it’s a few, I have doubts that there will be many who would find this post interesting.

and I know some people might still view Abel as the “pure” and “innocent”

but if he is going to kill sweet fluffy babies the way he does, and have a toxic-ego that becomes a part of the reason why Cain ended up falling into a very dangerous depression, then I’m gonna view Abel as a bit of a monster who was so heartless he couldn’t see that his actions was hurting his brother.

I slap my own Grandpa once, when I heard he use to be really mean to my Mom, I still love my Grandpa, and he did become more gentle when he got older, and well, I was a little kid when I had slap him....

I guess some might say “you shouldn’t slap your Grandparent, even if they were a little mean to your parent before.”

yeah, if only it was that simple....but he was more than just harsh words.

it had to do with beating, I think I was told there was a belt involved and I can’t remember if there was some kind of stick or not, I will have to ask.

but the point is, my Maternal Grandpa wasn’t always so nice at times in his younger days when he was a Dad to my Mom, and he only got better and nicer later on...

so yeah, I was just a little kid when I had slap my Grandpa.

and I kind of view it as his karma, and I could view my pointing out that Abel not really being a “Angel” and being half of the reason Cain fell into that darkness and depression, as part of Abel’s karma.

and as dark as it might sound, it might be possible that while Cain’s action weren’t right, and he could of talked to Adam and Eve about Abel’s poor actions.

but what happen to Abel may have been his karma, a karma he wouldn’t of had coming to him, if he had tried to not break Cain past the breaking point.

and while Cain did a monstrous action, but it doesn’t excuse Abel who possibly would of became much worse later in his life, as I said before, it might be possible that while Cain did take Abel’s life, but in theory he may have also stop Abel from becoming a far greater monster later in life.

I mean he used animal sacrifices, so who’s to say he wouldn’t try to use human sacrifices later on, thinking it would be more “pleasing” and even more “accepted.”, though another way of stopping him from doing that, could be from Adam and Eve stepping up and accepting that they had a big problem with Abel, and he was slowly becoming dangerous.

it’s fine that not everyone agrees about this, or how I believe the Heavenly Father would never let such a thing be accepted, and it could be possible that he could of been not pleased with the Priests that would take those offerings from Abel and say that he accepted them.

but some of the history that has to do with Cain and Abel, doesn’t seem right.

like there is a bigger picture, and if it is true that Cain was going through depression, then it is possible that Abel being all Embodiment of Ego, wasn’t really helping and was maybe half the reason it was becoming much worse to the point it would become dangerous when mixed with some wrath forming in Cain.

I mean I know some toxic-religious people have that view on some descendants of the nephilim, and if I remember right, also the view on those who are RH Negative and the whole “they can’t be saved” bull...

and yeah I’m still procrastinating in checking my blood type, to see if it will come out as O RH D Negative for a third time, we really need to try to get around to doing that.

I can view the “D” part as Determination, like from Undertale.

I think I will play some video games after I post a few things up on here, as well as check some stuff out on here as well.

also I could view my blood type as being “O RH Determination Negative”

cause it would be funny to view it that way, because it would be inspired by Undertale.

and yeah as the title shows, or like hints in case some may not know...

yeah I’m both Seth and Cain’s descendant, and I like to view myself as their little accident, a Defective Earth Angel....

and I had realized that technically being a Princess (even if I don’t have the official title, and it is only because I got royal ancestors, and some of my ancestors were knights...) and a Earth Angel, is like weird.

I doubt there is a “Earth Angel Princess” rank, it be weird if there was.

well, I have another reason to bring that up with the Earthly Virtues.

anyway, if by chance some do end up reading this, even if I believe not many will find it interesting, I hope some can try to understand my view even if it’s okay they don’t agree with it, but keep the disagree in a civilized manner.

I really don’t want to have to deal with toxic-religious people who take my different views the wrong way, I mean one had crossed a line once and made me cry, and wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to point out them using “may god have mercy on you” or “may the lord have mercy on you.” (I know it was one of the two...) at me was hurting my feelings, and I count that as religious trauma, and being part of the reason I really don’t like it when people go all toxic-religious and don’t try to listen to reason when they end up hurting someone emotionally.

I could talk about my own new beliefs, but I don’t want to force convert, because that kind of converting is wrong, and shouldn’t it be viewed as a sin...?

well even if it might not be, but it doesn’t mean force converting is right...

and there can be some messed up stuff that can happen, like holding someone hostage into a religion for one, like saying if they try to leave, they will end up going to hell, that is stupid and messed up...

and if people like that are being allowed into Heaven, even if they said such a disgusting thing and basically try to keep some from leaving and kind of keep the person hostage at the same time, that is gonna give me another reason to want to try to find the edge of the clouds of Heaven....

then again even if I want to, there is a possibility I might end up freezing like a deer in a headlight, I know there was a time that I didn’t do so well in a very high place.

anyway, I’m just gonna hurry up and post this....even if it did end up talking about some other stuff, but I still think that if it is true that there were Priests that were accepting Abel’s offerings and rejecting Cain’s, it would mean there is more to the story of those two brothers than meets the eye...

which reminds me of another theory I have that has to do with Transformers Prime, I think I will talk about that next after I post this...

also another thought I have about Abel, is that he needs a timeout in a corner.

and Cain still needs both hugs (but only if he accepts the hugs, like if he wants one...) and therapy.

and maybe Adam and Eve should stand in a corner as well, seeing as they could of stop their son “The Embodiment Of Ego” from crossing lines that ended up breaking Cain past the breaking point, but they didn’t...

so yeah, Grandpa Adam and Grandma Eve, should go stand in the corner.

also even if it were allowed, but still might not be possible...

I would still want to punch Abel in the groin for being partly the reason Cain had fell into such a dangerous depression, but Abel would come in second, seeing as the first guy I ever thought about punching in the groin was Mammon.

so Mammon, the embodiment of greed, is still top of the list of jerks that cross the line, who I wish I could punch in the groin, even if I know it isn’t possible.

#Cain and Abel #toxic religion #toxic people #groin punch #animal sacrifice #human sacrifice #not for kids #mature audiences only #do not reblog without permission

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spencersawkward · 3 years

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i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

#matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg oneshot #mgg x reader

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sukunarii · 3 years

Note

May I please offer an Omiki for the lyrics 'I hate everything about you. Why do I love you?' from the song I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace?

Feel free to ignore this if it does not spark any inspiration or if I'm offering incorrectly. Thank you. ❤️

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: Sometime before you died, you formed a binding vow with Sukuna causing you to become a curse. One thousand years later, you finally found him again. You wanted nothing more than for him to release the binding vow, however he refused.

A/N: Dw hon, you made the offering correctly, thank you for the request! Also, a bit of a longer fic today! With school starting it’s taking me longer to get through all the request 😣. Thank you all for being so patient!

If there was any god, it seem that he has finally smiled upon you tonight. A malicious smile forming on your lips, you ran towards the pink hair boy that was standing alone in the streets.

"Excuse me lady—"

Before he could finish his sentence, with a single hand you grabbed his entire face and shoved him into the nearby wall, cracking the wall in the process. Dust flies in all direction and the boy falls down into a seating position, his eyelid slowly closing. You bent down, to look at him curiously.

"Finally found you," you say.

Suddenly, instead of the original brown eyes, two pairs of piercing red eyes opened and the boy taps you on your forehead.

Immediately, it seems that everything turned blurry for a moment until you fell into a puddle of blood. You recognized this place. It was Sukuna's innate domain.

You rubbed your head from the fall.

"Sukuna," you grunted, your voice dripping with hatred.

"Is that how you greet someone?", Sukuna calls out to you tauntingly.

You followed the source of the voice up and see him—Sukuna sitting on a throne of bull skulls looking down at you with amusement. Oh how much you have learned to hate that smirk.

You got up, slow and grimly, some of the blood dripping down your clothes. Sukuna didn't move as he watched you grab a buffalo skull from the pile and threw it at him. With a flick of Sukuna's finger, the buffalo skull easily dissolved into little pieces before it reached him.

"Adorable. Fiesty as always."

You grimaced, you were really hoping that it would hit him. Or even at least make him realize that you weren't playing around, but he stayed the same. He was just toying around with you.

"Sukuna don't give me this shit, you know why I'm here" you shouted at him.

He rolled his eyes, "Do you think I remember the concern of everyone that hates me?"

Those words hurts more than you would like to admit. Your entire life, you chased this fruitless dream that you could be Sukuna's 'someone'. But even after so long, he still viewed you as no different than 'everyone'.

"I became a curse because of you. We made a binding vow of some type so I didn't pass on like everyone else. I'm tired of existing. I want you to break this vow and release me," you explained.

You searched his face for any change of expression, hoping to find a hint of compassion. But you were foolish. Sukuna does not care about anyone else and you knew that more than anyone.

"I refuse."

Anger rised from your chest to your head. It was a simple request yet he turned you down so easily.

"What do you mean you refuse?," you shouted at him, "I didn't spend one thousand years looking for you just so you can refuse me. I said I don't want to be in this binding vow anymore so whether or not you like me, you better fucking release me."

Seeing you all worked up, Sukuna laughs again. You hated how he always treated you that way. He always seemed to be looking down on you when he reacts to you with a laugh like that.

"Why should I?", he said, then his voice deepened and he no longer looked amused, "A binding vow is a mutual agreement, you can't break a binding vow because you've lost interest."

"I've lost interest? What use do I have for you anyways?", you snapped back.

Sukuna seems to lean back, cocking his head higher but his eyes still locked on you, "Do you not remember the details of the binding vow?"

You didn't answer. It’s been one thousand years, the details have all became hazy.

Sukuna's laughter echoes through the vast chamber again, "So you really did forget?" Sukuna gets up from his seat and stands on the top of the buffalo skull pile.

"The biggest mistake a sorcerer can make is to make a wreckless binding vow. You can't blame anyone but yourself," he grins, "And this means that your life belongs to me."

You balled your hands into fists, "Then I'll just fucking kill you!", you shouted at him.

Moving at the fastest you can, you jumped to the top of the pile of skulls where Sukuna was standing but he easily dodged you. You tried to land a kick on him, but you missed. Every time you tried to punch him, he easily blocked your punches. He was still so much stronger than you.

He effortlessly overpowered you and knocked you to the bottom of the skull pile. You laid in the pond of blood, breath heavy from the fight. He followed you to the bottom too.

"If you want to kill me darling, you'll have to try harder."

You were trying your best to not cry....one thousand years later and you still couldn't beat him.

"I hate you," you finally said to Sukuna, defeated, "The way you always say I won't be as strong as you, the way you always laugh at me or flash me that annoying smirk, I hate how because of you I am still stuck here forever."

Sukuna crouches down beside you.

He was still above you but for once, he didn't seem like he was looking down on you.

"You don't hate me," he says matter-of-factly.

You pressed your lips into a fine line, and annoyed, you splashed some of the blood onto his face, "Says who?"

This was the first hit that landed on Sukuna today and you finally felt a little bit smug seeing him angrily wipe the blood off his face, annoyed with your antics. But he seemed to recall something and brushed it off.

"I want you to do something for me," Sukuna tells you, then he leans down to you and whispered something in your ears.

When he was done talking, you rolled your eyes, "Why should I help you?"

"You're the last piece of the puzzle, once I take over the body of the brat, the plan will be set in motion. We'll rule the era again."

There he was again. Toying around with your emotions and using you to help him fulfill his ambitions.

You laughed bitterly, "We? There was never a we. It's always just you. Me doing this, doing that for you."

Sukuna stands up, "Don't make me regret my offer," he warns you.

You brushed yourself off finally get up too, and gave him a shove, "Fine. I'll do whatever you want. Just promise me that you'll release me from this binding vow when I'm done."

A triumph smirk forms on Sukuna's face, "That's my (Name)."

Immediately, you spat back at him, "Don't say my name like that as if you love me. We both know you don't."

Sukuna didn't agree nor deny your statement. Instead, he chose his next words carefully.

"I know I need you."

And he tapped your shoulders, sending you out of his innate domain again. You woke up on the pavement. The encounter is still fresh on your mind.

Inside Sukuna's innate domain, the King of Curses took a seat on his throne again.

His eyebrows knit together...did you really think that you became a curse because you made a binding vow with him?

"You're the one who cursed yourself," he says out loud.

Curses are spiritual beings manifested from strong negative emotions.

You can shout at him all you want about how much you hate everything about him, but the fact that you're still here is a testament that you still loved him. This is because you’ve spent your entire life chasing for Sukuna's love and died with regret of never hearing him say "I love you," in return. The only reason you were still here is because you still love him. Thus, you were still burdened by the negative emotions of unrequited love.

This is also why Sukuna could never show to you that he loves you in return. Because if he did, your one regret would be fulfilled and you would no longer bear any negative emotions.

(Name) would then pass away for real. And he can't bare at the thought of you leaving him. Ever.

It was a limbo of love and hate, and it seems that they've reached an impasse.

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

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Can’t Help Falling in Love

Loki x Reader (f)

Valentine’s Day with the God of Mischief

Based on suggestion by: @squadleaderchase

A/N: Thank you so much for the suggestion! I loved writing this, it was so much fun!

Happy Valentine’s Day y’all!

There is also a gender neutral version of this fic, and will be posted shortly after this one! Read it here!

I recommend to putting on Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis towards the end just for that finishing touch!

Summary: When Loki learns about the traditions of Valentine’s Day, he asks you to be his Valentine- and reluctantly takes advice from Steve Rogers.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: none; just fluff

“Can’t Midgardians have a holiday that doesn’t involve such a grotesque display of… red?” Loki asks walking into the living room of the Avengers compound. Loki arrived at the compound a few weeks before Christmas and so far, he’s experienced two Earth holidays: Christmas and New Year’s. Of course, Tony had picked the theme for both parties to be elaborately red and gold- he claimed the fact that it matched his suit was merely a coincidence.

“Just wait until next month,” you reply casually, your eyes not leaving the brief you were reading while you sat cozied up in one of the large armchairs. “I think you’ll like St. Patrick’s Day much more… color scheme wise at least.”

Loki looked up curiously at the hearts of all shades of red and pink Natasha had hung up to decorate the Avengers’ living quarters. She had gone to visit Clint’s family and his kids spent hours making Valentines and decorations out of construction paper and glitter. Loki looked almost puzzled at the lopsided hearts that hung from the ceiling on transparent line so they looked like they floated mid-air.

“Perhaps I might,” he mumbled to himself, the lovesick aura of his surroundings making him slightly disgusted. “Though I suppose I find your rituals as bizarre as you’d find on Asgard.”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled in response to his thinking out loud. It was rare that the compound would be this quiet. It was a Friday evening and in the middle of a team meeting earlier today, Tony declared exhaustedly that everyone needs to start the weekend early and dismissed everyone despite Steve’s protests. You weren’t sure where everyone else went and you didn’t particularly care- enjoying the rare peace and quiet.

You didn’t mind Loki’s company. He was a little aloof but overall, you found him more to be misunderstood than anything else. He wasn’t like Thor and sure, he had a very trouble ridden past to downplay it- but he’s confided in you all it wasn’t entirely his doing. Out of everyone living at the compound, he probably had grown the closest to you, or as close as Loki would allow himself to be to someone.

“What even is this holiday?” Loki asked, pulling his attention from the decorations to where you sat, binder in your lap. You looked up and closed the brief, tossing it onto the coffee table in front of where you sat.

“Sunday is Valentine’s Day,” you say looking back over to him, meeting his eyes. “I mean overtime the traditions and how we celebrate have changed but it’s originally the day meant to honor St. Valentine and commemorate his death. There’s a lot more to it than that and there’s all different of different origins, but now it’s more like a day where you celebrate love, because he was the patron Saint of Love.”

Loki nods, liking the idea of this holiday much more than New Years already. He didn’t mind Christmas, but the elaborate parties made everything not very appealing to him. You can’t blame the god for not having a good time at parties where every guest fears him or hates him. He walks over and takes a seat on the couch and crosses his legs. He was intrigued enough to continue the conversation and ask you more questions. “What are the traditions?” He asks curiously.

“Traditionally, you would ask someone to be your Valentine, and that’s the person you want to spend the day with,” you answer with a small shrug, trying to explain a holiday you’ve never had to explain before. “Some people have it easy and they ask their significant other, and if you don’t have one, you ask someone you’re romantically interested in to be your Valentine. Then you give each other gifts, like chocolates or flowers, anything really that’s romantic and you go out on a date, like a nice dinner but it doesn’t have to be. That’s the basic gist.”

“Thank you, (y/n),” Loki said, mulling over your explanation. “You’ve been helpful, as always. Tell me, who’s your Valentine?”

“I don’t have one,” you answered honestly. The only time you really celebrated was when you had been with someone. You’d never really participated otherwise. You planned to just spend the night alone or with Nat if she also didn’t have plans and probably watch a movie- most definitely Pride and Prejudice.

“Shame,” Loki said with a tsk. “Perhaps, if you would be interested, you could be my Valentine?”

“Really?” you ask, honestly surprised.

“I actually like the idea of the day,” Loki shrugged. “And I don’t know many people, people seem to hate me on this planet- no idea as to why. You’ve always been kind to me, and you are the most tolerable person I’ve encountered on this planet.”

“That’s oddly very kind of you,” you say with a chuckle. “I appreciate the sentiments. Um, yes. I’d be happy to be your Valentine.”

“Excellent,” he grinned. He clapped his hands together and stood up. “Splendid. I’ll ask Thor to help me plan something.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you smile, picking up your paperwork again as Loki heads off to find his brother.

***

“Brother,” Thor’s voice echoed in the training room. “Spar with me?”

“As much as I would love to,” Loki said sarcastically, “I need your help with something I need to plan.” Loki walked over to the side of the mat where Thor had been training with Captain Rogers.

“Plan what?” Captain Rogers asked curiously. It was an innocent enough question but Loki took it as Rogers insinuating his distrust in him. Of course, Loki can’t blame the man but it did rub him the wrong way.

“If you must know Captain Rogers, I’m making plans for this upcoming Valentine’s Day,” Loki said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure since you have quite the active love life recently, your words of wisdom are probably of infinite value.”

“You can learn a thing or two from me,” Steve retorted as he put the punching bag beck into place. “But I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever manage without you,” Loki scoffed. He turned his attention back to his brother. “I need help to determine where I should take (y/n) and what I should get her.”

“(y/n) agreed to this?” Thor asks, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Rogers kept his mouth shut, deciding to see where this conversation will go before

“Yes, brother. I asked her to be my Valentine as stated by tradition and she said yes.”

“Ah! Good for you, brother!” Thor exclaimed, happily. “I’m glad you’re immersing yourself in the Midgard culture.”

“Yes, yes,” Loki waved him off, “Now, please, tell me what I should do.”

“I’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day,” Thor says with a shrug and a sympathetic look. “I haven’t had much opportunity to explore the culture. Every time I’m on this planet I’m a little busy preventing its destruction. Perhaps Rogers can help you?”

Loki let out an exasperated sigh. He avoided Rogers as he knew the man had such a smug look on his face. Loki refused to give him the satisfaction. However, he realized that wouldn’t be fair to you. Rogers not only knew what to do, but he was also close friends with you. He quickly realized if he wanted to celebrate with you properly, he’d need to rely on the infamous super soldier.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki said with a charismatic smile, turning back to the man. “I wholeheartedly apologize for my lack of… social niceties. If you’d be willing to help me, to ensure your dear friend enjoys her holiday, I would be sincerely grateful.”

“Only because of (y/n),” Rogers says skeptically, waving a finger at Loki. “She deserves to enjoy her time and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you screw up her evening.”

“What a loyal friend.”

Years later, the Avengers would still talk about the fact Loki cared about you so much, he sought out advice from Captain America and Thor. And as Captain America said, he helped Loki with every last detail and Steve never let Loki forget it.

***

Loki had told you that he’d come to your room to get you at 6 o’clock Sunday evening. He wore clothes he had picked out, black dress pants, a white button-down shirt and shiny, black dress shoes. He had kept the last button of the shirt unbuttoned and he had rolled the sleeves up, a styling tip he had gotten from Thor. He had his long hair gelled back and tamed, ignoring Captain Roger’s horrible suggestion for a haircut. He felt very weird not wearing any green, but he took the advice he was given on his ensemble.

You were just putting on your heels when he knocked at your door Sunday promptly at 6pm. Of course, Loki would be very punctual. You gave yourself one more quick once more in the mirror in your room before heading to answer the door.

You had on a pair of dark green heels that perfectly matched your dress. You also layered over the outfit a suede brown jacket, that complimented the jewel tone of the dress and shoes nicely. You kept your appearance simple, sticking to how you usually styled your hair. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you quickly opened the door, your jacket and bag both in hand.

“Wow,” you say with a grin, when you take in Loki’s appearance. “You look very nice.”

“You look stunning,” Loki said, his eyes widening, taking in your appearance. The compliment made you have butterflies.

“Thank you,” you said with false confidence. Underneath, you were a nervous wreck as you took the arm that he extended to you.

“So,” Loki began to walk down the hallway with you. “Apparently, this planet has something called reservations, and anyone who tries to get one a few days before Valentine’s Day is a “moron,” according to a very rude young man I had the pleasure of speaking with- the first time using a phone too on top of that. So, I hope you don’t mind if the evening is a little… makeshift.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” you reassure him. You feel him relax slightly. You found how hard he was trying so endearing.

Where else did he bring you but just down the hall to the living room. At night with the lights dimmed, combined with Natasha’s homemade decorations, it actually looked quite beautiful. He had decorated with an eclectic array of candles as well that covered most surfaces of the room. It also looked like he had swiped every throw pillow in the whole compound and had them arranged the coffee table in the center of the room.

“Did you do all of this?” You ask in awe.

“Yes,” he replied, just watching you. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“I had to make my own version of advice I received,” he disclosed to you. You sat opposite each other on either side of the coffee table, you kicked off your heels and he did the same with his shoes. “Captain Rogers said- and I’m trying my best to quote verbatim, ‘You need to show a girl a good time. You gotta take her to dinner and dancing.’” He even mimicked Steve’s voice perfectly. It made you laugh.

“I can’t believe you subjected yourself to Steve for me, I’m touched,” you smiled. “I mean I love Steve,” you continue, “But I can’t imagine you too being best friends anytime soon.”

“No, I suppose we probably won’t be,” Loki chuckles.

“I hate to point it out,” you continue, “but I think you missed both the dinner part and the dancing part of that plan.” Loki smirked and when you blinked, he transformed the whole room.

“Did I?” he asks, with an eyebrow raised. You gasp, looking around the room you were now in. You knew it was an illusion, but it felt very real. The atmosphere, the breeze coming in from the large bay windows that weren’t there before. The coffee table now a table now one of many dining tables in an incredibly high-end restaurant. The table had food, and a bottle of wine. You were stunned. There was a live band and other couples in other tables and out on the dancefloor.

“Loki?” You exclaimed, looking around at your new surroundings. It was amazing. You couldn’t believe the magic right before your eyes. Of course, you knew it was just one of his tricks, but it felt so incredibly real. You picked up your fork and took a bite of the food in front of you. It was incredible, you questioned if you were even eating.

“It’s real,” Loki said, like he could read your mind. Honestly, he had only just anticipated your next question. “I made it. Well, I made it with Friday’s supervision.”

“It’s fantastic! I can’t believe you went through all this trouble just for me.”

“Sweetheart, you are very much worth it- worth much more than this,” he responded casually, throwing in the term of endearment to see how you’d react. He caught the way it made you smile.

You continued to talk for a little while, and shared stories. You were worried that compared to his life on Asgard, he’d find your stories incredibly boring and mundane. It seemed to be the opposite. His attention was only on you and he held on to every word you said. He created this elaborate setting just to keep you the center of his attention.

“Should we dance?” He asks suddenly, a glimmer in his eye. You looked down apprehensively.

“I’m not really a dancer,” you tried to insist.

“Do you actually not want to dance, darling? Because if so, I will not bring it up again,” he says earnestly, “But, if you’re saying no because you’re afraid I’m going to judge you, I honestly can promise you I would never dream of doing so.”

You give it another moment to ponder over his words. You were taken aback at how well he seemed to know how you were thinking. You let out a sigh of defeat, and smile. “I’d love to,” you reply.

He stands up and offers you his hand. His smile is enough to make you weak at the knees. You take his hand and he leads you over to the dancefloor as the band starts playing its next song. “Does that singer sound like Elvis?” You ask, the small glitch in the illusion throwing you off for only a moment.

“I don’t know who that is,” Loki says with a laugh. He pulls you in close and rests one hand on the small of your back and the other grasps your hand close. You wrap your other arm around his shoulder. You are both pressed up incredibly close to one another. You rest your head on his chest comfortably, and you can’t see how much the action makes his whole face go red. Guiding your movements together, it mostly just swaying in place. The steps were small, and with the music playing for the two of you.

“This place is incredible,” you sigh happily looking up at him. “But I think I liked the first place a little better.”

He nodded in agreement and you got to watch a green hue encompass the walls of the restaurant as they almost melted away, and everything around the two of you just fade away. The sconces on the walls, revealed themselves to be the candles that cluttered the living room and the couples evaporated with the green mist. The table you had both sat at, turned back to the coffee table but the empty plates remained. The elaborate statues that surrounded the room turned into the furniture you knew well, and then the live band faded away to reveal Steve’s record player indeed playing a 45 of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.

When the room finished revealing its true appearance to you, you laid your head back on Loki’s chest and mumbled that now it was perfect. He smiled to himself, thinking about how without a doubt in his mind, Valentine’s Day is his absolute favorite holiday on Midgard. He now couldn’t believe this reality was real. If he wasn’t holding you, he’d pinch himself. You were here, with him, in his arms, dancing in the middle of the living room on this godforsaken planet.

“(y/n)?” he whispered softly as the song was coming to an end.

“Mhmm?” You responded, your eyes closed, really just basking in the feeling of being so close to him and the smell of his cologne.

“Will be mine?” He asks carefully, remembering the phrase from Captain Roger’s advice. That phrase apparently being very important if today went well and he wanted to ask you to “go steady.” You chuckled softly, hearing Steve’s influence in the phrase.

“I would love to,” you say with a shy smile looking back up to him. He beams, incredibly happy you said yes. Swept up in his emotions, he swiftly leans down and presses his lips to yours capturing them in a passionate first kiss.

“Oh gross!” You hear someone exclaim, making you both pull away. It’s Tony- who was currently holding his side in pain as Pepper elbowed him in the side.

“You really had to do that?” she chastised him, rolling her eyes and giving an apologetic look to you and Loki before pushing Tony down the hallway to give you both your moment back, as sullied as it had become thanks to Tony.

“I’m so sorry,” she said embarrassed by his outburst, ushering him out as quickly as possible.

Loki turns his head back to you, immediately after they are out of view. “Where were we, darling?” He smirks, pulling you in for another kiss.

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #valentines day imagine #marvel imagine #mcu loki #loki imagine #loki fluff #fluff imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston x y/n

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kingwuko · 3 years

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Wuko in the Comics: Ruins of the Empire, Book 1 part 2

Welcome to my series of posts discussing Wuko in the Comics. In this post I'll continue to discuss RotE Book 1. There are some... interesting moments in the second half of this comic, including a very famous line that all but confirms canon Wuko.

Plot Summary

Fearing that Guan will use violence to stop the election, the Krew decides to bring Kuvira along with them to Gaoling, hoping that she can talk him down. When they come face-to-face with Guan, however, they discover he does not intend to use violence, but will run in Gaoling’s election. The Krew decides the best solution is to find another candidate with enough public support to defeat Guan fair and square; and they decide to ask Toph to run. It is revealed, however, that Guan does not intend to win fair and square. He’s planning to brainwash Gaoling’s citizens to vote for him.

Major Plot points in the second half of Book 1

We start off right away with the Sauna Scene. Everyone looks excellent. The ladies' sauna wear is lovely. Mako and Bolin have their classic swim suits seen in season 1. Wu is literally just wearing a towel. I found myself googling saunas and steam baths to see if it’s normal to wear swimsuits or just a towel, and everything I read said pretty much anything goes as long as you are comfortable, but I do find it interesting that everyone wears swimsuits except Wu. Maybe because he does steam baths more often and he’s just more comfortable in that setting? He seems pretty confident and not at all shy. I don’t have anything analytical to say about it, I just think it’s an interesting detail, that he doesn’t seem to have any hang-ups about being nearly naked around Mako his friends.

They are discussing Guan’s militaristic movement toward Gaoling, and tossing ideas around to handle the situation. Mako not-so-helpfully suggests using force with the united forces which Zhu Li shoots down right away, not wanting to escalate the situation. Wu agrees and wants to find a peaceful resolution. Korra, remembering her conversation with Kuvira, thinks she has the answer. She proposes bringing Kuvira along to Gaoling, which NOBODY is happy about. Asami is upset because she made it clear earlier she does not want to be in the same room as Kuvira, Bolin is distressed because Kuvira nearly had him killed when he defected from her inner circle, Mako points out that he nearly lost his arm taking down the mech, Zhu Li says she invaded republic city, Asami reminds everyone that Kuvira killed her father, and Wu boldly declares that we can’t forget she ruined his coronation… He quickly reads the room and apologises (character growth?).

Korra acknowledges everyone’s concerns and points out that she truly believes Kuvira can be an ally- she was their ally when Zaheer was trying to kill her and the airbenders; and when her spirit vine weapon ripped open a new portal to the spirit world, Kuvira thought she had died and Korra believes that changed her. Bolin points out that Kuvira is very persuasive and may have a good shot at convincing Guan to stand down. Everyone is convinced and declares their support for the plan.

Zhu Li orders Kuvira’s release and Korra brings her onto the airship taking them all to Gaoling. And, I’m sorry, this frame is like, the bitchiest collective look from Mako, Wu, Bolin and Pabu. I just love it.

They initially plan to restrain her, but decide it’s pointless when Kuvira points out if she wanted to escape that she would have already. They arrive at Gaoling and there’s no sign of Guan and his army. Kuvira is certain he’ll be there, and points out that she needs to change so she doesn’t meet with him looking like a prisoner.

Korra and Wu go to meet with the election candidates. Their portraits are on the wall and it’s revealed that the candidates are both elderly magistrates who have been working in the local government for a long time. They are practically indistinguishable from each other, which causes Korra concern. Wu isn’t happy about it either, he was hoping the elections would bring in new leaders to take the earth kingdom in a new direction. Instead, it looks like nothing will change in Gaoling or the rest of the earth kingdom if things play out the same way. They are both disappointed but Korra is optimistic that this is the first election and over things will improve as they iron out the political kinks

Back in the flying machine, they give Kuvira an outfit of Asami’s that is…. Like I can’t put it into words. I’ve never seen asami wear it and that is a shame. The word that comes to mind is “Dapper”. Like is we saw Asami wearing it when they first introduced her character literally everyone would have predicted Cannon Korrasami and immeadiately said “yup Asami’s gay straight women don’t dress like that”. Slacks, a collared long sleeve shirt, with a grey vest over top. Just like, amazing. I am so disappointed we never saw Asami wear this. Someone point me to a fanart of Asami in this outfit that canonically belongs to her please.

Guan arrives and Kuvira tries to talk to him, which goes about as well as you’d expect. So she tries to appeal directly to his troops and urges them to surrender, and they all say in unison “Hail Commander Guan!”. So Kuvira decides to challenge Guan and beats the crap out of him in a punch that looks like something directly out of a WWII propaganda poster or something.

Kuvira is literally about to kill him by bending the metal collar around his neck when suddenly Asami electrocutes her with some device she had hidden in the belt she gave Kuvira.

Once Mako and Bolin drag Kuvira away, Korra attempts to reason with Guan and tells him she won’t let him interfere with the election. Guan then reveals he has no intention of interfering- he plans on running in the election! He immediately turns in all the necessary paperwork to be on the ballot. He informs the Krew that soon, all the upcoming elections will have Earth Empire representatives running and once they have power in every territory, no one will question the Earth Empire's right to rule.

They reconvene back on the airship, where Kuvira is detained in the platinum box. They explain to Kuvira that she was wrong to provoke him, but right that he is an excellent strategist. Mako then tells Wu that he should just call off the election. Wu replies “Mako, you know I love you, but I’m trying to encourage democracy. I can’t just go around canceling elections because I don’t like one of the candidates. We need to see how this plays out”

…

Yes. “Mako, you know I love you”

…

We’ll discuss that at length in a bit.

They decide the best path forward is to find a new candidate who is popular enough to beat Guan. Korra excitedly suggests Toph. Which, like, wouldn’t have been the first person to come to mind for me, but I guess she’s the only person they know who is originally from Goaling? But everyone seems on board, except presumably Toph because she doesn't like to get involved in worldly affairs… So Korra announces they will just have to convince her!!

We then cut to Guan's encampment, where he is discussing Kuvira’s actions with a Doctor Sheng, observing that Kuvira just isn’t the same, and that the Avatar has corrupted her mind. The doctor suggests they “recalibrate” Kuvira’s mind and leads him into a structure where she shows him their latest “recruits'. We then see Goaling citizens tied up in chairs with devices on their heads. They are being brainwashed to vote for Guan! Yikes!

Mako and Wu Scenes

The Sauna scene

The meeting that took place in the sauna was at the behest of Wu. He said he was very stressed out so he couldn’t miss his steam bath. I know there are lots of jokes about Wu being high maintenance because he needs his spa days or whatever, but he is in a highly stressful situation right now and we know that self care is essential to maintain one’s mental health and in order to perform one’s job well. I think this was an interesting way to weave together his seemingly superficial hobbies with his new maturity and responsibility. I really loved this scene for that (though seeing all the hot people in sauna-wear is a bonus).

Also there is a recurring thing where Mako is just offering the worst advice to Korra. He wants the United Republic, a completely separate Nation from the Earth Kingdom, to just.. March into another country and ‘enforce’ their democratic process??? Like…. If you know anything about world history and current events we know that is awful and wouldn’t be received well and would be a recipe for political instability and long term conflict. Thank goodness everyone is like Mako no. I’m pointing this out because, as much as we think of Wu as being immature, irresponsible, whatever, the reality is that he has a level head while Mako is actually giving the irresponsible solutions here. It’s a really interesting evolution from the infamous Wu meltdown scene where Mako was the voice of reason, but here things have reversed.

Also, I want to point out the moment where Wu backs down after he adds his grievance to the list everyone is giving (She ruined my coordination!), it’s kind of played for laughs but like… Wu has a totally valid reason to be upset on par with everyone else, considering Kuvira had him drugged and kidnapped…. Why wouldn’t he have said that? Well, the simple and obvious answer is- the writers wanted to make a “Arson, Murder, and Jaywalking” joke. But since us fans like to give depths to the characters that they deserve, maybe Wu is genuinely traumatized and just doesn’t want to bring it up. And maybe everyone knows he’s traumatized and doesn't want to bring it up, because no one else is like “Wu, did you forget she had you drugged and kidnapped???” They just give him a look and he’s like “LOL oops sorry should have said my thing first!!” maybe Team Avatar understands that it was a really scary moment for him and they just let him shield himself with humor.

I know it isn’t isn’t exactly a strong Wuko moment, but the bitchy look that Moko, Bolin, Wu and Pabu give to Kuvira in the airship breathed life into me for some reason. I’m loving how they look like a group of mean girls who were just badmouthing Kuvira before she walked in. I think they were having a nice bonding moment before this.

Mako, you know I love you

Ok. So after Mako casually mentions just calling off the election, Wu flat out says “I love you” to Mako. This is a line us Wuko shippers just DIE for. The full line is as follows:

Mako: I say you call off the vote, at least for now. Make it impossible for Guan to win

Wu: Mako, you know I love you, but I’m trying to encourage democracy. I can’t just go around cancelling elections because I don’t like one of the candidates. We need to let this play out.

So. Like, what the heck are we supposed to make of this?

I’m not going to dig too deep and force my own interpretations and headcanons onto you. This I love you could mean a number of different things. I just want to pose some rhetorical questions about it and the context to give us all some things to think about.

Is Wu flirting? Does Mako actually know that Wu loves him? Is this an extension of Wu’s many other instances of flirting with complimenting Mako (on par with ‘my big tough guy” while staring at his ass)? Has Wu said “I love you” to Mako before? How many times has Wu said “Mako I love you” before? Is this evidence of them actually being in a romantic relationship during this comic? Or is it evidence of romantic tension building? Is Mako just totally oblivious to the fact that Wu said I love you? Or did he hear it and his brain blue-screened from the shock of being blatantly told I love you? Has Wu just gotten fed up that Mako seems oblivious to all his previous flirtations and he just decided to up the ante? Does Mako love Wu back?!

Lots of questions. Lots of interpretations. But (as far as I remember) Mako has only said I love you to two people- his brother and Korra (I don’t think he said I love you to Asami but I could be wrong). And if you’ve read this you know that Mako’s relationship with Wu is not brotherly. We’ve never heard “I love you” from Wu toward anyone else that I can recall so I don’t think he makes a habit of throwing the phrase around lightly. Also, worth noting: Literally no one reacts to the casual “I love you”. Everyone just goes on with the conversation at hand. The next frame that we see of Wu and Mako’s faces together, Mako is SMILING at Wu.

So like, he’s clearly not uncomfortable with being told that Wu loves him. And no one else is uncomfortable with it either. So what gives? Are they together? Are they flirting? Is everyone else just like “yup Wu said I love you Mako nothing out of the ordinary here because it’s painfully obvious Wu is into Mako, let's move on, nothing to see here”?

Wu and Korra

One thing I LOVE about these comics is the friendship between Korra and Wu. During the series, Korra tolerated Wu, warming up to him a bit at the very end when he told her his plan to abdicate. But through these comics there seems to be a comfortable familiarity between them. A bit of teasing, loads of moral support, and not a hint of her (or anyone) being super annoyed by him. He also doesn’t hit on her or anyone else except Mako, which is a very refreshing character growth because it was very tiresome to watch him objectify women in the animated series.

Korra and Wu spend a good amount of time together as she accompanies him to Gaoling’s city hall. They seem very comfortable with each other, comfortable enough that the writers included a fart joke.

Korra reassures Wu when he expresses worry about the election being pointless, she steps forward somewhat protectively when Guan shows up- the entire scene with Guan, Korra is standing between him and Wu.

Basically I bring this up because I genuinely love the idea that Korra and Wu are close and friendly, that they have moved on from his cringy behavior from the series (I like to think he apologized to both her and Asami?)

What this means for Wuko

If you are writing fic or just coming up with headcanon, there are two ways to look at the scenes. Either they are in a relationship, or they aren’t. You could easily just say they are in a relationship and are being quiet about it, because they aren’t ready to be fully public, or maybe because they are still figuring things out, or they are waiting for Wu to abdicate and move back to Republic City, etc. “You know I love you” is such an easy piece of canon content to make this your headcanon.

Likewise, one could say they are Not Together right now. Pre-relationship, if you will. Maybe they’ve danced around the idea, discussed feelings without actually getting together. Or maybe they are still clueless that there is a potential for a relationship. Wu might be putting out feelers to see how Mako responds to his flirtations. Mako might be wondering if he’s misinterpreting Wu’s affectionate touches and words. Lots of romantic tension, pining, each wondering if the other one has any feelings.

I also love the idea that Wu and Korra are friends and have discussed or will discuss Mako and Wu’s feelings for him.

So, in summary, Wu loves Mako. It’s canon. It’s right there in black and white. Make of it what you will!

Next post I will discuss Wuko in the first half of RotE Book 2. Wu goes on a life-changing field trip with Korra to meet Toph and confront a swamp-vision of his Late Great Aunt, while Mako gets captured and brainwashed by Guan. Wu and Mako are not together during these scenes but there will be lots of wonderful Wu backstory along with plenty of angst potential from the brainwashing storyline.

Wuko in Turf Wars

Wuko in RotE part 1

#Wuko #Wuko in the Comics #RotE #Mako #Prince Wu

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elareine · 3 years

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If you could, can you please write JayTim or RoyTim (whichever one you want) trying to be romantic and woo Tim (maybe with some puns, I love puns), but Tim is a bit oblivious towards it, because the other is so cool, therefore they must be trying to make friends and be nice with him and nothing more. So when he does finally realize its an italicized "Oh" moment.

Hi lovely!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this fill. I... ended up making it JayRoyTim, I hope that's okay? It just fit so well, but I can totally write something else with JayTim or RoyTim for you if you want :)

Also, it turned out to be about pick-up lines more than wooing, sorry. I might’ve gone overboard with googling the puns. It's long enough that I put it on ao3, too. What's your username on there? Then I'll gift it to you.

if you were a transformer (you’d be optimus fine)

“Well, here I am.”

Tim looks up, utterly confused. “I didn’t call for you, but… that’s… great?”

Roy waggles his eyebrows. It looks faintly disturbing. Redheads should maybe not do that. Or, actually, Tim revises mentally, thinking of literally every other redhead Dick ever dated—that’s just Roy. “What are your other two wishes?”

“Coffee and some silence to finish working this case?”

Roy looks weirdly deflated at that, but he does get him some coffee. Tim soon forgets about it.

—

(“How’d it go?”

“Does obliviousness run in the family?”

“Yes. Yes it does. Have you met Bruce?”

“…okay, fair. Your turn next.”)

—

“Jason? What’re you doing here?”

Sure, Jason and Roy have been spending a lot more time in Gotham lately. Something to do with a case, Tim assumes. Maybe even with the one that they worked on together in Star City five months ago?

Anyway. They’ve been around, is what Tim is saying. Not at the manor, but at Tim’s apartment and his workspace, cause apparently it’s not worth rebuilding their safe house after it went up in flames, and Bruce and Damian are too often at Dick’s place. He’s not exactly surprised to see either of them anymore. (Pleased, yes. But not surprised.) However, Tim has no fucking clue why Jason is currently grinning at him from the other side of the library desk.

At least Tim has the good sense to check his name tag before he gasps: “Jason?”

“Oh, hey, Tim.” Jason’s grinning. “Guess you figured out my new job, huh?”

“Yeah.” Tim shakes his head. “Color me surprised.” So this is what Jason’s spending his days doing. He’s gotta be shadowing someone, right? Tim’ll ask him tonight.

“I’ve always liked this place.” Jason’s gaze is far away for a moment. Tim badly wants to know what he’s remembering. Then the older man seems to come back to himself and gives Tim a weird—maybe angry?—look. “It’s a good thing I’m a librarian, too, cause I’m totally checking you out.”

“Alright, I can take a hint.” Tim grabs his book and demonstratively walks over to the self-service scanners. Really. How rude.

—

(“Are you telling me he managed to resist you in your cardigan?”

“Apparently.”

“Aww. C’mere, babe.”)

—

So Roy blows things up all the time. No, really, Tim now totally understands why Dick was so happy when he heard the duo is camping out at Tim’s place for a change. His older brother even gave Tim a thumbs-up, for God’s sake. He must’ve known.

Cause yeah, there’s at least one explosion every two days. Or Roy dropping something cause he’s too focused on what he’s thinking to remember what his hands are doing. Or something dropping on him. Jason seems used to it; he just catches whatever it is or laughs at Roy. Tim… is starting to learn to do the same, actually. Whatever Roy comes up with at that moment is usually worth it, and besides, he’s kinda adorable.

Aaaaaaanyway. (He’s using that word a lot in his own thoughts right now. Almost as if he’s avoiding thinking about something. Hmm.) Tim’s not surprised when Roy walks into a room, stumbles, and slaps a hand over his eyes with a dramatic exclamation.

Tim, in shorts and not much else cause he got drenched in pollen earlier, just raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Roy?”

“Nope.” Roy’s hand is still covering his face, but Tim can still see his grin underneath. “I’m gonna need your name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Roy. You have both of these things,” Tim explains slowly, wondering if Roy sustained a brain injury or accidentally dosed himself on something. “And why insurance?”

“I was blinded by your beauty.”

God. Sometimes Tim wonders about the original Titans and their socialization for the two dudes if this is how they think making friends works. Then again, Kori, Donna, and Dick probably appreciated constant compliments about their beauty. It all makes sense. Roy must be so used to it that he even uses those same methods when someone unexceptional like Tim is around.

He smiles gamely. “I’m looking forward to hearing that phone call. Must be almost as great as the time Bruce tried to convince his insurance company that Clark dropping on his car wasn’t an act of God because God is demonstrably not a Kryptonian. Neither was the giant ape punching Clark out.”

Roy drops his hand at that. “…Batman did what?”

—

(“You were doing so well, too.”

“I knoooow. How much more obvious can we get?”

“I dunno, but I intend to try.”)

—

“Do you like Star Wars? Because Yoda only one for me!”

“Haha. No. Star Trek or die.” Tim’s answer is automatic. He’s had these discussions soooo many times with Kon before. Of course Jason also goes for the space cowboy soap opera.

Besides, Jason’s boyfriend is standing right next to him. He doesn’t mean to sound flirtatious with Tim. Or maybe he does, and it’s just good fun? Or maybe teasing him? Tim can’t figure it out, but he knows he doesn’t like the weird hollow feeling he gets in his stomach when he thinks about it, so he changes the topic.

And makes both of them sit down to watch some classic Captain Kirk, of course.

—

(“Should I be insulted by that pick up line?”

“Nah. There aren’t that many lines that imply a polycule, though.”

A kiss. “Alright.”)

—

One of the things Jason and Tim have in common is their predilection for motorbikes and fiddling around with them. Not that makes them unique in the batclan; Tim has never spent days quietly working side-by-side with Dick, though, the way he does with Jason. They started out with separate projects. Then Jason saw this vintage Ducati at an abandoned warehouse he was about to blow up and, well… Would be a shame, right? Tim just happens to have had one of these before—regrettably lost to one of Harley’s exploding baseball bats—so he offers his expertise.

It’s not because it means bending over the engine with Jason, closer than they ever are, their hands brushing when they hand each other instruments. It’s not.

Roy doesn’t join them. He’s too polite to say so, but he finds normal cars and bikes boring af. Doesn’t stop him from popping his head into the garage and whistling when he sees that they are shirtless and covered in grease. It’s a damn good look on Jason, so Tim can’t fault him for that.

Roy follows it up with a: “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you got fine written all over you.”

Tim can’t help it; he blushes at the suggestive tone. Those two never stop flirting with each other, do they? So far, he has managed to avoid stumbling over them while they’re making out (not that they’re making that easy—the kitchen? Really?), and he’d like to keep avoiding that, thank you very much. He’s already feeling guilty enough for his fantasies as it is.

“Uh. I should clean up,” he mumbles and flees.

—

(“Dammit.”

“…do you think that was a rejection?”

“Nah. He was definitely checking me out before you came and fucked it up.”

“That’s saying something if you noticed it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

—

So Tim has magically acquired cat ears and a very fluffy tail. Don’t ask. They’re gonna go away in eight hours, and until then, he’s gonna stay in the cave and work himself to distraction. Jason seems intent on keeping him company, though.

(It’s nice. Tim loves hanging out with Jason—that’s not the problem. The issue is that Tim is looking ridiculous, and Jason is being nice about it, and none of this is helping his stupid crush go away.)

They’re absently chatting about nothing until Jason says: “Kinda a pity you’re a cat, though.”

Tim looks up. Huh? Admittedly, he never pegged Jason as the type to go for catboys (though maybe… he did hang out with Kyle… perhaps it’s just that he definitely doesn’t go for Tims), but that’s still a weird pronouncement.

Jason is grinning. “If you were a chicken, you’d be impeccable.” He pauses. “Wait. Like even more than you already are. Uh.”

Tim sighs. Great. And now Jason is making fun of him again. “Whatever.”

—

(“A chicken?”

“Shut up. I panicked.” A sigh. “He was so cute with these ears.”

“…yeah, he was.”)

—

“You must be tired. You’ve been running through my mind all night.”

“I’m not tired,” Tim says automatically. Why does everyone keep asking him that tonight? Surely the shadows under his eyes can’t be that bad? He used concealer!

Something in Roy’s expression softens. “Aww. C’mere.” He pats the space on the couch next to him, and when Tim sits down, Roy pulls him half of on top of him and into a hug. “Relax for a bit, little bird.”

Tim sinks into the embrace, boneless all of a sudden. Roy just has that effect on him. Tim vaguely remembers thinking of him as his oldest brother’s cool friend and then Jason’s cool boyfriend, kind of a fuckboy but clearly good for Jay.

Now? Now, Roy just makes him feel safe.

—

(“So you spent the night on the couch just so he could sleep in your arms?”

“Yeah. Totally worth it.”

“Duh.”

“I just wish we could do that with him every night. Bet he fits perfectly between us.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“We might have to up the ante or switch tactics.”)

—

They’re talking about their favorite books—Tim doesn’t read as much as Jason does, but they discovered a shared love of sci-fi weeks ago—when Tim says: “Actually, that book kinda reminds me of you.”

“Oh?”

“Overly dramatic but good.”

Jason makes an offended noise, and Tim grins.

“I’m not sure which part I should argue about first.” Jason pretends to think.

Tim is always down to tell Jason that fuck his self-perception—Jason is a good man, one of the best Tim knows; that also feels too revealing right now. Instead, he gets up from their comfortable position on the couch and grabs the first stack on the table, carrying them over to the shelves to replace the gaps. “What kind of book would I be?”

“Babe, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

“Annoying and no one reads it?” Tim asks without turning around, trying to ignore the babe. That’s. That’s gotta be a slip of the tongue, right? Force of habit from spending so much time with Roy?

“No, fine,” and the emphasis is clear this time. Jason continues before Tim can reply: “Though if we’re talking books…”

Tim whirls around. “Save it. You don’t have to make fun of me just because I—“He swallows down the words.

Jason looks alarmed. “Tim—“

As if he can smell trouble, Roy chooses that moment to enter the room. Tim has barely heard him approach, Jesus. He doesn’t want to have this argument in front of Roy, though, so he just stands there in the middle of the room. Jason, too, has stopped speaking.

Roy, of course, takes one look at the awkwardness and decides to make it worse. Or more confusing.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he asks.

“As this isn’t Hansel and Gretel, no, I didn’t.” Tim checks his shirt, just in case this is an actual conversation opener and not just a weird attempt at a distraction. “Do I have soot on me?”

“Nope.” Roy shakes his head, and he’s smiling that smile again, the one Tim is startled to recognize, the one he thought is reserved only for Jason— “Because you’re hot.”

And finally, Tim gets it. “Me?”

“Yes, Tim.” Roy’s moving in closer. “You.”

There’s a soft touch to Tim’s shoulder, and Tim whirls around, expecting Jason to be mad, cause his boyfriend is—is hitting on Tim, right, that’s what’s happening, Jason can’t be happy—

Jason is smiling down at him. His hand is still resting on Tim’s shoulder, but it slides down to his collar bone, a gentle presence as he murmurs: “You’re so beautiful that you made forget my pick up line.”

Oh. Oh.

Tim says the first thing he can think of: “Are you a raisin?”

Jason starts grinning. “I’m not even gonna qualify that with an answer.”

Tim smiles back. “Cause you’re raising my hopes for a kiss right about now.”

And he gets one. And then another, and then Roy joins in, kissing Tim’s neck and then his mouth and—Yeah.

They’re too busy for any more pick up lines right now.

#elareine writes #jayroytim

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kantrips · 3 years

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Alistair & Celia Headcanon Collection

Some Amell x Alistair (largely fluff) headcanons! Includes some from Origins, Warden time at Amaranthine and the Inquisition-era. Some of these I have had since my first playthrough, but others I may have read elsewhere, loved and thusly absorbed so please let me know if I can link anyone!

Origins

The first time they meet at Ostagar, Celia thinks Alistair is the most fascinating person she has ever encountered because no one in the Circle had a particularly boisterous sense of humour. Alistair is oblivious to her heart eyes, and also holds back because he’s worried she won’t survive the Joining.

Even after the Joining, Alistair tries very hard not to ~feel feelings~ despite the clear signals Celia is hurling at him because he assumes she won’t like him once she gets to know him more/she will get bored of him/ she will leave like everyone else i.e. the boy is hecking damaged.

Celia laughs obnoxiously hard at all Alistair’s jokes because a) she finds them unexpected, and b) because, like a dork, she wants to prove she gets the punch line. Alistair is perplexed by her reactions at first, and cautiously wonders if she is mocking him. Once he realises she is genuinely amused, it bolsters his ego significantly.

Celia has no concept of personal space and sits and walks very close to everyone. There wasn’t a lot of room at the Circle so she forgets she can spread out. Morrigan makes it clear she needs to back off (Celia doesn’t need telling twice) but Alistair is more relaxed and gets used to it quickly after the confusion of the first night when she blithely sets up her bedroll right next to his. Alistair assumes she is a bit scared of sleeping in the forest but really she is just accustomed to the need to cram as many apprentice bunks into a room as possible.

In a way, Alistair is also used to sharing small spaces (Chantry and Wardens) so it doesn’t bother him at all when Celia chooses to sit pressed against his side, walks so their arms bump together, or unconsciously brushes an eyelash from his cheek. He quickly grows to like her overfamiliarity (for some reason…).

Similarly, Alistair eats Celia’s leftover food if she can’t finish it or doesn’t like it, even before they’re a couple. She just offers one day and after that it becomes a given. The others side-eye them but they are happily oblivious.

Celia gets in trouble from the rest of the party for getting distracted yelling encouragement and cheering Alistair during combat. In turn, Alistair gets in trouble for turning around mid-battle to thank her when she buffs or heals him. Morrigan advises that if they are both so determined to get killed, she is more than happy to assist with hastening the process.

Celia’s mabari, Trevor, is quickly accepting of Alistair and his proximity to Celia because he observes Alistair protecting Celia in battle and thusly deems him to be a ‘good dog’ and considers that they are equals in the pack.

Alistair and Celia vandalise each other’s wanted posters whenever they come across them. It gets competitive.

Celia doesn’t really want to be in charge of saving the world but has three things working in her favour: 1) she absolutely hates letting people down 2) has an intense need to finish what she starts 3) she is in possession of a bossy streak.

That said she spends the entire Blight screaming internally to an extent not even Alistair fully grasps.

They go to the Circle Tower first, because Celia thinks she will have the best chance of getting help from people she knows and is also ‘homesick’ in the sense that she is very glad to be free of the place, but stressed enough with everything going on to crave something familiar even if she resents it. The events there devastate her. Along with the loss of friends and mentors she has known since childhood, being trapped by herself in the fade particularly terrifies her as she has never truly been alone for so long before in her life. It reminds her of the Harowing which totally blindsided her. She is very teary, untalkative and introspective for some time afterwards, but both Trevor and Alistair have the correct instinct to stay close without trying to interact with her which she finds incredibly comforting.

Accustomed to making potions, Celia will not under any circumstances deviate from a recipe while cooking, whereas Alistair just chucks everything in to use up leftovers and see what happens. Alistair gets meals together super quickly whereas Celia takes forever. A little unfairly, Celia is perceived as the better cook because she produces very consistent meals, while Alistair’s experiments sometimes do work, and sometimes don’t, with people tending to focus on the disasters rather than the successes. Meanwhile Celia is rather: “should I add half a sprig of rosemary? No I mustn’t: it would be far too daring!” so everyone learns to tip their own seasonings into their bowl before even tasting her food.

When they’re travelling and walking for days on end, Alistair and Celia make up a lot of games in the vein of ‘I spy’ and ‘would you rather?’ They can occasionally persuade others to participate though no one enjoys them or gets quite as invested as Celia and Alistair (who are actual children).

A game stops abruptly one day when Celia guilelessly asks if Alistair would rather be Emperor of Orlais or King of Fereldan and he gets extremely defensive and answers, “Neither.” Having no context for this reaction (yet), Celia (a stickler for the rules) pushes him, insisting his answer isn’t allowed and that he’s cheating until Alistair gets grouchy, stomps off and refuses to play anything for days.

Celia figures he must be overtired, but his unhappy reaction does come back to her later at the Landsmeet and contributes to her already firm resolve not to put him on the throne.

When bored, Alistair also periodically asks Celia to, “Do a trick!” with her magic and she usually obliges with something small and silly which Wynne always scolds them for (but they continue to do anyway).

Celia does not like Eamon one bit and makes it clear from their first meeting. Alistair actually gets a bit annoyed at her because she is polite to 99% of the other people they meet and he can’t understand what her problem is. Celia won’t say because she doesn’t want to drive Alistair away so she remains coldly civil towards Eamon and commences a long, looong process of nudging Alistair towards having the realisation himself that a) Eamon is manipulative, selfish and cruel and b) Alistair deserves better.

Celia wants to collect some of the books they find which is not practical given they are constantly travelling, but Alistair carries as many as he can in his pack and suffers in silence for it, ultimately finding it worth it for her enthusiastic gratitude.

Celia cuts Alistair’s hair and does a very respectable job after weeks of him complaining it’s flopping in his eyes (they used to cut each other’s hair in the Circle). Zevran pretends she did an awful job, gasping in horror at Alistair’s appearance, much to Celia’s ire. Alistair (internally weeping) tries to be brave until he can check his reflection in some plate mail and see it is fine.

Celia is very naïve about how the ‘real world’ works having been at the Circle since she was a child. This is especially evident in Denerim and Alistair has to explain how money works and grab her before she wanders down dicey looking alleyways.

Alistair nearly dissolves into a paroxysm of agony when he points out his favourite type of cheese at the Denerim Markets and (accustomed to the very limited range of bland foods provided at the Circle) Celia innocently asks, “There is more than one type of cheese?” Alistair makes it his mission to educate her. She doesn’t like most of what he feeds her but doesn’t say so to protect his feelings given he seems to take the matter so incredibly personally.

Leliana convinces Celia to sing one evening at the campfire. She’s breathy with a very limited range but manages okay, and Leliana plays and harmonises in support. Watching on with a goofy smile plastered over his face, Alistair comments to the surrounding companions about how talented she is and they’re like “…she’s really not mate.”

When they both wake up from a blightmare (or Celia has one and wakes Alistair with her flailing) they sneak about and eat anything they can find then sit up and have massive deep & meaningfuls (i.e. in the spirit of going for a long drive with a friend or being in the garden with someone outside a party and spilling your guts). Eventually they start blaming the depleted food stores on Leliana’s nug, Schmooples, much to Leliana’s displeasure.

Given Celia usually responds so well to his jokes, Alistair gets a bit peeved when Celia starts replying to some of his more severely self-deprecating humour with an unamused, “No you’re not,” or, “That’s not true.” He defensively argues it’s just a joke, but he does stop doing it so much as time goes on.

Celia is SO excited when Alistair gives her the rose. She never in her life thought she would be the recipient of a proper ~romantic gesture~…however she accidentally sits on the rose about five minutes after she gets it. Celia is devastated. There is a lot of panic and tears and she keeps one petal pressed in a book but has to unceremoniously ditch the rest in secret.

Celia doesn’t tell Alistair about this until years later and she’s terrified he’ll be hurt but he just laughs because he was so worried he was going to be the one to squash it and then she destroyed it basically the minute she got it. Alistair acknowledges it was an impractical gift given their situation. Celia gets mad and says it was a PERFECT gift and is annoyed at how funny he finds it given this has been a crushing, guilty secret hanging over her for years.

Following this, every time Alistair gives her any kind of gift, he can’t help but throw in a ‘Don’t sit on it!” and cracks himself up, especially when Celia gets grumpy about it and accuses him of spoiling the moment. It happens so often that when Alistair chooses a horse for her and plans to teach her to ride, Celia manages to cut him off with, “Yes, I know Alistair: I can sit on this one,” and steals his thunder.

Alistair periodically says Celia’s name just to check if she’ll answer, especially after a long period of quiet or to see if she’s awake à la screaming in the chantry because it’s so silent. When she responds he says, “Nothing” or “Never mind” but he finds it vaguely comforting just to hear her reply and it’s a habit he never loses, even when they have been together for years and he is much less isolated generally. Alistair doesn’t realise he’s doing it, and it never happens frequently enough for Celia to notice: she just assumes he has lost his train of thought.

They sometimes conspire to purposely fall to the back of the group while on the road so that they can hold hands. Everyone knows full well what they are doing, but Alistair and Celia think they are being incredibly ~sneaky~.

The first time they sleep together they laugh. A lot. Before, during and after.

Alistair snores loudly but only when he’s on his back. Celia is used to the noise of people sleeping around her at the Circle so it doesn’t bother her and she doesn’t want to disturb him because she knows he needs the rest.

When they are known to be sharing a tent however, their companions will slap on the walls of it and demand she kick him until he stops snoring. Celia will relent and gently prod and nudge Alistair until he rolls over with a bit of sleepy grumbling.

I think everyone has this headcanon to the point it is basically actual canon HOWEVER I am legally obligated to include it: Alistair is a professional body heat distributor and Celia drastically cuts down on the number of blankets she uses once they are sleeping together. If she stands in front of him on cold days, he understands the non-verbal signal and will automatically wrap her in his cloak.

Also might as well be canon: Alistair likes to be the little spoon. He doesn’t say, but Celia knows.

Decidedly not a fluff one (you can skip to Amaranthine to avoid) but the ritual with Morrigan fairly significantly messes Alistair up (both the act itself and his consideration of the repercussions i.e. Kieran). He’s jubilant and relieved at their victory over the Archdemon, but in the background struggles to process and there is some fallout once the victory celebrations lull and he has time to fully register what happened. Alistair grapples with a lot of guilt, disgust and confusion. He doesn’t know how to express it or where to direct his emotions so it mainly manifests as self-loathing. He wants to talk to Celia about it but can’t articulate his feelings which makes him feel worse.

Celia tries to comfort him, but he needs space on and off for a long while after and she gives him it. She feels a lot of guilt too, and never stops wondering how much it was actually his choice to do the ritual, worrying that she made him feel like he had to do it. Eventually they discuss it openly and honestly, which eases both of their minds somewhat, but it takes a long time to get to a point where they can talk on the subject. Meeting Kieran at Skyhold also helps Alistair down the line, though it’s obviously painful.

Amaranthine & Inquisition

Alistair keeps an eye out for people struggling, especially new recruits who are having trouble fitting in. He takes them under his wing and is very good at building people up and making sure everyone is included. He’ll just start enthusiastically greeting people like they are his best friend and squeezing himself onto the bench next to them at meals until everyone else follows suit.

For recruits that don’t respond well to his ‘mother hen’ type attention, Celia is good at assigning tasks that specifically highlight their strengths and builds their confidence/sense of purpose which also gains them the respect of their peers.

Alistair has been known to stand behind Celia while she is giving mundane orders/making speeches and pull faces or impersonate her, turning stony and impassive when she spins around accusingly because people are laughing.

But if anyone else talks smack about her he gets very, “Sorry mate, just to clarify was that comment directed at my wife, your Commander, the hERO OF FERELDAN, VANQUISHER OF AN ARCHDEMON!? That’s lucky, I didn’t THINK IT LIKELY. Because that wouldn’t be WISE, would it now?” etc. with some loud, fake laughter and firm backslapping for the worst offenders.

The plan for them to part ways so that Celia can search for a cure goes very badly, especially because Celia (under a lot of stress and not coping™) eventually devolves into, “I’m in charge and I say so,” which is a big betrayal of their agreements both to stay together, and make decisions together on equal footing. She realises this and takes it back but Alistair is demoralised and gives in with a bit of petty, sarcastic reverence e.g. saluting and, “Whatever you say boss, don’t know why I dared to utter an opinion how foolish of me...” so they still part on slightly strained terms, even after later mutually apologising and trying to make the most of their time together before they go.

Both regret the argument during their separation and write horribly soppy letters to each other, but something still feels uncomfortably unresolved until they are together again. They pine. So much. It’s disgusting and cliched. There is considerable sighing and staring at the moon or deep into tankards, very much to the ire of those around them. Alistair can be particularly annoying: “This roll reminds me of my wife...she eats bread sometimes...”

After Celia sends the letter to the Inquisitor, she writes to Leliana directly along the lines of, “I know it was incredibly subtle but I wanted to check: did they get the message? That I will destroy them if Alistair gets hurt?” and Leliana replies in the vein of, “Hon, it wasn’t even remotely subtle ffs…”

When reunited, though ecstatic and nearly delirious with joy and relief, it takes a while to rebuild the trust they once had, especially for Alistair. There’s an unfamiliar awkwardness that flares up unexpectedly, but it doesn’t last and they’re both fully committed to each other and to staying together permanently this time.

Celia and Alistair have a conversation recapping everything that happened while they were apart in which Celia is all, “Poor Hawke. Honestly I’m shocked you didn’t do something obscenely idiotic like try and sacrifice yourself thank the Maker for that…” and Alistair is there, nervously sweating, looking for an exit, loosening his collar etc.

As they settle back into their old routines Alistair will occasionally blurt out things like, “I really like having breakfast with you,” and then berate himself internally for how trite that sounds but Celia replies on cue, “I love waking up next to you and the way you groan when you stretch your back out and the way you check your hair twice before you leave the room and the way you complain if I don’t eat my crusts and the way you still hold my hand when we’re walking...” and basically they’re just blissfully happy being comfortably domestic and even as they get older they are forever just teenagers in love.

The Wardens at Amaranthine acquire/receive a griffon egg and the hatchling imprints on Alistair and decides he is their mother. It can’t cope with separation, crying constantly if Alistair goes out of sight, and won’t let anyone else feed or handle it so Alistair carries them in a sling 24/7. He gets to give orders and run training sessions with the tiny griffon occasionally poking its head out just to glare at everyone.

Whenever the baby griffon squeaks, Alistair automatically replies, “Well said,” or “Excellent point, Ser Beaksly” with a totally straight face.

For the first few months, Celia gets nipped or scratched if she approaches Alistair unless he wraps the griffon up. It so badly wants to fight her. Celia is permitted to sleep in her own bed, as long as the griffon sleeps curled on Alistair’s chest and Celia doesn't try anything outrageous like touching her husband even fleetingly. It gets a little frustrating as the months drag on, but the image of Alistair with the sling over his armour, or with the griffon snuggling possessively around his neck staring daggers at everyone, is so entertaining that Celia can’t get truly annoyed about it. As the griffon gets older it does learn to tolerate other people and becomes more independent but remains very protective of Alistair and favours him above all others. Insert the ‘Ah yes. Me. My husband. And his thousand pound murder-bird-cat child’ meme here.

Modern AU Bonus Round

They share headphones while commuting.

They occasionally end up wearing sort of matching outfits, mostly unintentionally.

They consistently refer to their dog, Trevor, as their son to the point that people who aren’t familiar with them assume that they actually have a child.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #warden alistair #warden x alistair #amell x alistair #warden amell #headcanons #my art #my writing #file under no one cares but me #but my goodness do I ever care #I can't wait to delete a bunch of these from my phone where they have been lurking forever #this draft is weeks old why am I so scared of posting on tumblr???#the problem is the longer I leave it #the more I add #I'm out of control #this is too many headcanons #I must be stopped

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kuroo-shitsurou · 3 years

Text

Auxilium (College!Xiao x College!Reader)

TW: mentions blood, depression, anxiety

note: it's my first time writing and posting something on tumblr so im sorry if it's bad!! reader is gn hehe.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick. Humans make decisions that eventually shape their personalities. What does a new year have anything to do with that? Does a change in the year automatically make you a good person? Does it make you less of an asshole than you might already be? He never really understood.

He found it rather silly, actually. Whenever a new year rolls around, Xiao would mutter silent curses to himself because he'd write the wrong year on his papers. Other than that, there wasn't any significant changes he made in his daily routine. He was still the same Xiao; The same anxious, mildly depressed, and coffee-high art major Xiao.

Now, Xiao was a respected figure in their college (or at least, that's what he was told). He was one of the most talented artists at Tokyo University, and professors have been eyeing him for a scholarship overseas (he, along with his brooding and mysterious senior, Diluc). His keen eye for details always produce great results as most of his portraits are featured in the university's gallery of students' greatest works. Not to mention, one of his larger canvas works were displayed at the Tokyo Museum, making him one of the youngest artists to have their art showcased there.

Admittedly, Xiao was aware of how people admired his talent. Unfortunately, due to a rough childhood where his parents barely showed him any love and affection, he had trouble reflecting his true emotions onto other people. That's why other art majors often labelled him as a self-absorbed, egotistical prick.

Xiao was the last person you'd want to compliment. It's not that he'd be a dick about it or that he'd scowl at you and act as if he was better than you in every way possible. It wasn't like that at all. It's simply because Xiao doesn't know how to handle compliments. He'll still keep his stoic face, lips pressed in a straight line, but deep inside, he'd be flustered to bits. He'd try to internalize his reply, stitching together the right words to express his gratitude, but it would always take him a few minutes. The person who complimented him would've already left after he finally constructed the sentence in his head. Not that he wasn't used to it

This led to Xiao earning his current reputation, as stated earlier. He was already expecting the rest of his college years to be spent alone in his studio, working on his artworks during the wee hours of the night, high on the fumes of his paint palette and his exhausted coffee machine.

Until you came.

Kaoru was... eccentric. You were loud, you were moody. He felt like you'd be the type of person he'd hate dealing with just because you was unpredictable. You were like the rain, and Xiao hated the rain.

He must have an Archon's cursed tongue, because he got paired up with you during the first semester of their second year in college. You were a familiar name to him, as you were in the same course since the first year, but he barely knew anything about you since you were in different classes.

"Hey, Xiao! I'm _____. I hope we can be good friends by the end of the semester!" His memory of your bright smile still remains vivid in his head. He wasn't really a brooding type like Diluc, but Xiao liked to believed that he presented himself as a silent person who had no intentions of interacting with other people. So, how were you so bubbly around him? Because she was forced to do so? You were to be his partner for the whole semester, after all. Maybe it was all formalities. Yeah, that's probably it.

"Hm." Xiao gave a nod in her direction, acknowledging your existence. you heard from your friends that the young artist didn't have a pleasing personality, but you weren't expecting to be shutdown from the get-go.

"Mind if I sit beside you?"

Again, a light nod.

You felt the awkward tension between you and Xiao, and you hated it. You were a person who hated it when people are uncomfortable in your presence. You didn't want to be a bother, and you did your best to make everyone like you. Not that you were a people pleaser, nor an attention hog, but you just wanted to get along with everyone.

The lecture was going to begin in twenty minutes, so the lecture hall was yet to be filled with people. You took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the amber eyed man beside you, who was typing away on his laptop. Something about color theory and how it affects the perspective of people on different art types? You couldn't really see that well. He was a fast typer.

"So, Xiao, I heard that your painting was displayed in the Tokyo Museum last year. It must have been an honor. I was at the unveiling last year and I saw it up-close." You started off, testing the waters.

"And what did you think of it?" Xiao cringed internally. He meant to genuinely ask for your feedback regarding his art, but it sounded so harsh that he wanted to punch himself when he saw you wince (or maybe you shuddered because it was cold and you were wearing a sleeveless top? His nerves were getting the better of him at this point).

"Well, a lot of my friends told me that it wasn't anything special,"

Ouch.

"It was a large canvas. I can still remember how it looks. But, maybe that's because I'm at the museum every two weeks," You laughed. You noticed how Xiao's breathing noticeably changed after you started your sentence, and you have to admit that it sounded a bit too mean.

"You know, Xiao. My friends told me that your art was simple. Anyone could have done it. But honestly, they couldn't be more wrong. I love how your piece was painted. Auxilium. I'll never forget what you called it. That's... Help, right?"

At first, Xiao didn't want to listen to this person ramble about an art piece he made during one of the lowest points of his life.

His anti-depressants had run out during that one Christmas. It was 2:47 in the morning. He had morning classes the following day. He had a project to submit, but he was unable to continue working because of the unbearable pain in his chest. His head was throbbing. Voices were invading his mind. Flashbacks of his parents' negligence taunted him. He rushed to grab a glass of water, chugging it down in almost three chugs. He slammed the glass back onto the counter, smashing it into tiny little splinters and cutting himself in the process. His hand was bleeding, there were bits of glass on his counter and on his floor, but he couldn't care less. He was heaving, his breathing was unsteady, he wanted to die right then and there. His vision became blurry, but he rushed back to his studio.

With a bleeding hand, he picked up his brush and began to tear into his canvas. Not literally, but he started to create strokes onto the blank canvas. Different colors, different textures (he swore some of his blood got blended in with the area where he painted the sunrise, but it's fine. No one was going to notice, right?). He screamed and cried, wanting to throw the entire easel out his window.

It was Christmas. He was alone in his apartment. His anti-depressants ran out. He was having a panic attack.

That night led him to having one of the worst breakdowns he could remember, but he also ended up with a gorgeous painting that nabbed him a place in the Tokyo Museum.

"Help," Your voice echoed in his ears, snapping him out of his trance.

"People can tell me that it's nothing more than a simple painting, but the way that the sunrise was only showing in a segmented part of the canvas? The way that there were hints of red? It kind of reminded me how a new day can resemble hope but still contain hurt. Like, the promise of a fresh start isn't guaranteed a good one, right?"

Your words rang in his ears like a gong being hit continuously. He wanted to cry. People always complimented him and congratulated him about being recognized by art critics and national museums, but none of them ever really stopped to talk to him about his art. They were there for his recognition- not his work.

"I mean, you could begin with a fresh start, but wouldn't the remnants of yesterday still take a toll on your tomorrow?"

"Hm. Interesting take. To be honest, those specks could have been my blood." Xiao spoke up, to your surprise. A small smile formed on your face. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

"My hand was cut up when I was painting that," He added quietly, not mentioning why his hand was in that state. "I think I accidentally added too much concentrated red. I couldn't blend it out the way I originally planned."

"Oh? But that makes it all the more great, though!" You beamed, "Maybe it was an Archon guiding you? I don't really believe in that stuff, but acknowledging some divine intervention once in a while can't be all bad, no?" You laughed.

"I guess you're right." For the first time in a while, Xiao actually gave someone else a small smile. It wasn't really a smile per se, but his lips curved even the slightest bit upward, and you decided that it was a win for you.

Fast forward to the second semester of their third year.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It had been years since he was clinically-diagnosed with mild depression. So, why was he still that way? Shouldn't new years help him be a better person? Or something like that. Why was he still like this?

Late February meant the end of one semester, and the start of another.

What else did that mean?

His semestral feedback report (he refused to call it a report card. What was he, high school?).

"Xiao? Are you here? I bought almond tofu from Xiangling's place. Sorry for barging in, you weren't answering my calls." He heard your voice from the kitchen and he glanced at the clock on his studio's wall.

1:37 AM.

You were at Xiangling's place because you were working on a report about the history of acrylic paints or whatever it was. You were supposed to go home, but you still dropped by his apartment. He checked his phone.

[ 14 missed calls. ]

Yikes.

"I'm here." He answered meekly, but loud enough for you to hear. He felt tired. Defeated, maybe. He was blankly staring at the canvas in front of him. He has sketched the base of your face and upper body. He was planning on painting a portrait of his beloved to decorate his room with, but he couldn't find the energy to continue.

He could hear the soft "thud"s of your feet walking from the kitchen towards the studio, but he tuned it out with an annoying static he could only hear in his head.

Fuck. Where are they?

He rushed to the drawer next to his easels and rummaged around in a panic.

Where the fuck are they?

He kept a few anti-depressants in his studio because he spends most of his time here and he didn't have time to rush to the kitchen to get them if he ever got a panic attack.

"Fuck!" He cursed loudly, throwing the contents of his desk onto the floor. Some of his paintbrushes scattered on the wooden floor of his studio, marking the wood various colors. Maybe they're going to stain, but he didn't really care.

Xiao heard the footsteps retreating until he couldn't hear anything else except the constant ringing in his ears. It was annoying. It was loud. It started to make him want to split his head open.

"_____," He whispered, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten. The passageways helping him breathe seemed to close themselves, giving him a hard time and mocking him. It was coming back again.

Tears started to flood his vision, and they rolled down his red cheeks. He took the ponytail out of his hair and used two hands to tug at his locks starting from the roots. His breathing patterns became more erratic, but he tried his best to stay calm.

His knees and legs felt like jelly. He had to lean against the desk to avoid from toppling over.

Why? Why again? Why now? Why when you were here?

He screamed. It was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but his care for any external entities was out the window the moment his eyes became blurry with tears.

Even though he was leaning against the desk, his legs still couldn't hold the weight of his entire body. His knees dropped to the floor, and he swore he must've dented the wood below, but he paid no mind to it. His knees were also aching, but he could deal with that later. He bent down and pressed his forehead to the floor.

"_____," He whispered again, longing for his partner. "Auxilium."

"Xiao?" The voice was muffled. His eyes were glued to the floor in front of him, but he knew it was you.

"Xiao, stay with me, honey." There was a hint of panic evident in your voice, but he was glad that you didn't let that get the best of you. You was still somewhat calm.

You kneeled down beside him, helping him back to an upright position.

"Honey, you left these on the counter outside." You handed him two tablets of his anti-depressants, and he gladly placed them in his mouth. You also gave him a glass of water, and he downed it in two swift gulps. Afraid that he might underestimate his strength, he returned the glass back to you instead of setting it down himself, nodding at you in the process.

You got into a more comfortable position where you rested your back against the wall, and you guided Xiao to follow you. It was a difficult task; He was very sensitive during his panic attacks.

His semestral feedback reports always made him anxious. He didn't have to please his parents anymore since he moved out years ago, but Xiao had this nagging feeling inside of him to do better with his academics. Nobody was really pressuring him to be a straight-A student, but did he feel like he needed to be? Who was he trying to prove himself to anyway? You knew about his sever panic attacks and how they were more active if he had a big event coming up. The first time you had to deal with it, you were still stiff and trying to learn how you could help. Now, you takes pride in yourself for being able to handle him in the ways you know would help him the most.

"Here you go, I've got you." You cooed, assisting him with moving. You laid his head flat on her lap and she began stroking his beautiful, tousled forest green locks. The highlights he had under the first layer of his hair started to fade, and you made a mental note to take him to a salon so they could get their highlights redone.

"You know, I've been listening to a lot of Coldplay lately," You started speaking, as if Xiao wasn't about to have a full-on panic attack. "Yellow would have to be one of my favorite songs. I guess it's kinda cheesy, but can you blame me?"

You used your free hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you." You began singing, voice just above a whisper.

"And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow."

Xiao was a reserved person who had a hard time dealing with other people because of his inferiority complex that sprouted when he was young.

"I came along, I wrote a song for you."

He didn't have love and affection growing up. He didn't know how to be the best person to talk to. He had poor communication skills. He was a mess, to be honest.

"And all the things you do. And it was called yellow."

You were the first person who looked past his rough and tough exterior. You were the person who showed interest not just in his name- but in him as a whole.

"So when I took my turn, what a thing to've done."

"Thank you," He murmured silently, noticing that the ringing in his ears vanished. His throat was beginning to open again, and he could finally feel the steady heartbeat he had in his chest.

"And it was all yellow."

Xiao curled himself into a ball, burying his face in your clothed stomach. You smelled a bit like smoke (maybe you ate yakiniku at Xiangling's?) and your faded cologne. It smelled like home. It washed a sense of relief over his entire being. He felt safe. He felt secure. He was being held like a child, but he didn't really mind. Maybe he needed this.

"Your skin. Oh yeah, your skin and bones,"

You craned your neck downwards to look at Xiao's figure. He finally looked peaceful. You knew about his rough past. You knew about the trauma he had to go through, but you chose to look past it because you knew that he was just afraid and... alone. He needed someone to be there for him, and you would rather the world die than leave him alone ever again.

"Turn into something beautiful."

You noticed how his chest started a rhythmic pattern of ups and downs. His breathing was finally steady. He looked at peace. He looked like he was right at home.

"Do you know? You know I love you so."

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched him sleep in your lap. How could anyone think that this softie was an asshole?

"You know I love you so."

You barely whispered the last part of the song, but it was loud enough for his heart to hear it. Xiao hated when things were unpredictable; that's why he hated the rain. But now, maybe the idea of rain wasn't so bad. Especially since you were his rain.

"I love you, Xiao."

At that moment, you knew that the involuntary smile on Xiao's face was a response that contained more emotions than his words could ever bear.

"I love you too."

#genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao imagines #genshin impact #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi #genshin #xiao

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katieraven · 3 years

Text

sleep is so tough

Summary: your attempt at dealing with losing Bucky is unsuccessful and results in a sleepless night - for several reasons.

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/female reader

Warnings: angst!!, happy ending (because I can't write sad endings for the life of me), a lot of metaphors, thoughts about death, loss and grieving, a tiny description of a panic attack

Word count: 3227

Notes: @babycap you wonderful human! 600 followers is huge and i am very happy about this fic. the prompt was: "I wanna be in your touch / Sleep is so tough" - James Bay, Chew On My Heart and I wrote a lil something that i'm kinda happy with. do enjoy!

love,

katie

It’s the same nightmare. You recognise it from the last three weeks, you’ve been here before. Doesn’t make it easier to shake out of it. You watch him convulse, face torn and twisted somewhere between pain and the desperate attempt to keep his free will. The fight against the venomous words the HYDRA agent hurls at him. They’re like daggers, needles stuck into his brain, rewiring him. And all you can do is watch. You are frozen in place in the torture your subconsciousness puts you through. Again. And again. And again.

You can’t will your eyes to tear away from him. He snarls like a cornered animal at the agents around him. Then the final words. “грузовой вагон“. Freight car. You don’t know Russian, but those ten phrases have been burned into your brain. You could recite them in your sleep.

Bucky stills. He slowly stands up from his crouched position, cold stare fixed onto the speaking agent. “Я готов отвечить“.

You startle awake, the nightmare finally loosening its grasp on your consciousness. Immediately, your hands fly to the other side of the bed. It is cold and empty and your stomach drops when realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

This is not a nightmare. At least not entirely, no. It is a memory. Because you saw the footage. You saw Bucky convulse and bend and snap and straighten. And you saw Steve, heard his scream as Sam pulled him away, forcing him to leave his best friend in the hands of his torturers. Steve knows it was the right thing to do. You do, too. The thought of Bucky being all alone behind enemy lines still makes your breath hitch in your throat, though.

They didn’t want you to see the footage, it wasn’t supposed to be something you get confronted with. But you slipped into the room, originally meaning to talk to Natasha about some software to try out in the next mission. They didn’t notice you entering, eyes trained on a screen, FRIDAY running facial recognition in the background. They kept playing the footage over, and over, and over, and again, looking for any kind of clue as to where they could find him, until your knees gave out under you and you fell with a whimper leaving your throat. Natasha was the first to understand the situation. Steve let out a string of colourful curses you would have never stopped teasing him about, hadn’t you been trying to wrap your mind around what you just saw.

If you had known they were back already, you would have noticed him missing and asked. But you didn’t even know they were back. And then he was gone.

You finally open your eyes. The New York night tints the white ceiling a blueish sort of grey and you feel like someone painted the inside of your heart onto the concrete. A perfect replica. Grey inside. Empty. Broken and alone, left to try and fail to put yourself back together.

Your fingers curl into a fist around the cold and empty bedsheets. They have been empty for three weeks now, and your body has no tears left to give. So you lie there, silent sobs violently breaking free from the void that is your chest. Sometimes you don’t know if your heart is beating, still, and your hands can’t find it in them to check. It wouldn’t be so bad to die, you think. There’s not much keeping you here.

Steve visits every few days. He carries the same hollow look in his eyes, like someone snuffed out the light behind them and carelessly forgot to turn it back on. With the sole difference that he is better at hiding it. It is only when he thinks nobody is watching that the sticky navy blue ink that is grief seeps into his face and turns his eyes empty and his face pale. You don’t mention it.

You know it’s supposed to help, sharing grief. Which is why you open the door when he visits, and don’t turn him away. He needs it, too, you suppose. So you sit on your sofa in front of the tv and watch something stupid and mindless that none of you pay attention to and both of you pretend to find acutely intriguing whenever the other is looking.

It’s all a giant game of pretend. SHIELD is feigning confidence in finding him. Everyone else oozes positivity whenever they talk about the mission. But it’s false, and hollow, and the truth of it sneers at you through translucent optimism.

You turn your head to look at the alarm clock on your bedside table. 4:36 a.m. That means you slept an astonishing three hours. That’s two more than yesterday. You’re not afraid of the nightmares anymore. You know they will come. The terror shaking you night after night has become a companion, just as the grief following closely in everything you do. It looms over you at night, hides in the shadows behind the furniture in your living room, joined by Steve’s whenever he’s there.

You were afraid to fall asleep, yes. Pulled two all-nighters in the first days after. By now you have learned to read the signs your body so openly presents you with and you know you will not fall asleep again tonight. So you lie there, hand splayed over the empty right side of the bed, eyes staring through the ceiling.

Fuck, you miss him. It rolls over you unexpectedly and your body seizes, curling up into a fetal position as your obviously alive and beating heart pumps sharp agony through your veins. He is gone. You know, of course, you understood before and this feeling is familiar, but for the first time, it truly settles inside you. Bucky is gone.

The man you imagined a future with, who handed you his broken and bruised heart and trusted you to fix it, is gone. The charming wooden home near the sea you always talked about when his nightmares were too much and too real slowly turns to dust between your grasping fingers. You feel it slip. The bell-like high pitched laughter of a young child evaporating in your mind.

You feel your heart break. There has been a dull ache in your chest for weeks. You’ve gotten used to it, embraced it into your menagerie of demons and ghosts, grief and loss. But it betrays you, right now, as you feel your heart pound against the cage of your ribs, and it burns. You still lie curled into yourself, blanket tangled between your legs. You will explode. You feel it with a new certainty, this will kill you. You breathe in and out, you know you do, but none of the air arrives in your lungs. It leaves you desperately gasping for oxygen.

Until you realise none of it is real. Because your heart is not here in your room with you, your heart lies in the mismatched hands of a broken soldier somewhere between here and the sea. It can’t kill you here, because there is an organ-sized hole in your chest and the coldness of the world tears at your exposed ribcage with icy shrapnel-sharp claws. Does it bleed? If so, you can’t feel the warmth. Blood is warm, right? Bucky always said it is.

You exhale slowly. Will your seizing muscles to relax, to let you go. To your surprise they do, and you inhale again, cold night air. It doesn’t yet escape through the wound in your chest. The hole hasn’t reached your lungs yet. But you know it will consume you, leave no part of you untouched, unbroken, will rip you apart for all your demons to finally feast on what is left of you.

Maybe he will find you first, you muse. Maybe HYDRA will find the last bit of mercy in them and send him after you, to cut his strings. You know you will not fight when he does. It would be a sweet oblivion with his eyes the last thing you see. Grey irises like molten silver when the sunlight hits just right.

Your arms fold against your chest. The skin is whole, not a scratch, no bleeding wound. You know it can’t be true. It is simply your minds way of processing this pain. Your imagination fixed the hole but you know it’s still there, still gaping. You can feel the edges burning where the hole ends and the marred skin starts. But you live. Still this broken body carries you on, one day after another.

You sit up in your sheets, hair plastered against your forehead by the thin film of sweat covering your body. As your back straightens, the metallic clinking of dog tags root you into this reality and you pull them out from under one of Bucky’s black shirts you’re wearing.

“Keep these,” he murmurs and presses something hard into your open palm. You look down and see the two thin pieces of metal piled on top of each other, embossed letters spelling his name, his full name. Your stunned eyes flicker back up into his and you open your mouth to protest, but he shushes you with a finger.

“It’s not like I need them. If I die, this thing” – he gestures to his arm – “will tell everyone who I am. But I want you to have these.”

Your thumb smoothes over the plates, shoving them against each other. “I mean … I won’t complain, but why do you …?”

He shrugs, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. “I don’t know, I guess it feels like a part of me stays with you, y’know? A physical part. So that you have something real to hold onto until I’m back.”

It hits you, then, that he’s leaving. He picks the tags up and puts them around your neck and you reach for his hands, fingers closing around his forearms. “Don’t leave me, Bucky. Please, I can’t lose you –“

He puts his hands on either side of your face and kisses your nose, before looking directly at you. “You won’t lose me, you hear? I’ll always be with you. Always.”

But now he’s gone, and you close your fist around the metal tags until they push into your palms, and harder until they cut the delicate skin. You want to be angry at him but you can’t. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault he couldn’t keep his promise.

You steady your breathing. Eyes wander to the red numbers on your alarm. 5:23. No use trying to sleep anymore, you decide, and sit up. Might as well make coffee. Maybe you can get something done today. Clean the laundry up at least, so Steve doesn’t have this awfully concerned look on his face next time he visits.

It takes you a couple of minutes to actually, physically, move. In your mind you’re already in the kitchen, filling the coffee maker with water and watching the coffee slowly dribble into the pot below. It has something therapeutic, one drop at a time. Almost meditative.

But, well, you do have to walk over into the kitchen to reach this point of short-lived meditative oblivion. So you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, and your eyes fall onto the covered mirror in the corner. It’s floor-length, and you used to love being able to admire your whole outfit in there without having to stand on your tiptoes.

Like that one time before one of Tony’s extravagant galas, when you tried to get a good look at yourself and the glamourous dress that, as Natasha had pointed out, would look amazing on your figure. She had been right – naturally. But the tiny mirror in your bathroom hadn’t shown the whole thing and so you were leaning over the sink to try and look. Which was exactly the moment Bucky chose to walk into the room, only to promptly wear an affectionately amused smirk on his face, assuring you of your otherworldly beauty (“Oh come on, Buck, don’t mock me – “ “I’m not, you are otherworldly, doll, dazzling even!”) and pointing out that you were in desperate need of a floor-length mirror.

In the first few days of Bucky’s absence, you hung a bedsheet over it because you couldn’t bear the memory. In fact, you can’t recall the last time you actually looked at yourself. With utmost certainty, though, you can say that your skin must be grey and sunken and the darkened circles under your eyes a deeper shade of purple than when you were knee-deep in college finals. God, that time seems ages away. If you hadn’t gone to college then maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation – you would have certainly never ended up at SHIELD. For a second you wish you hadn’t. This pain would not be part of your reality, then.

But then again, you wouldn’t have met him at all. And as much as this, right now, hurts, you wouldn’t trade it with any reality in the universe if it meant not knowing him. Not loving him. Not knowing his deepest, darkest secrets that he only opened up about after one particularly bad nightmare, with his head in your lap, not daring to meet your eyes.

No, if this pain is the price for his love then you will take it. You will let it eat at you until there is nothing left except your hollowed shell of a body because it will have been worth it.

You walk past the covered mirror and open the door, bare feet against the cold kitchen floor. You go to reach for the coffee maker when something registers with you. Something out of place, a slight inconsistency in your regulated, never-changing surroundings. You barely see it in your periphery.

Your movements still and your head slowly turns toward what is undoubtedly someone sitting in your living room. The moonlight glints on his left shoulder and you realise, within the smallest fractions of a second, who it is.

The hollow excuse for a heart that sits in your chest sputters and stills, before springing back into action twice as fast. He came back.

A steady stillness settles over you as you understand the situation. They sent him. Loose ends and all. Yet you’re not afraid, this death will be quick and quiet. It gives you an odd sensation of peace, to know that his will be the last face you see – even if it is the Winter Soldier’s face. But they’re still Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s okay”, you whisper.

His intent gaze never leaves you as you slowly, deliberately walk towards him, step by step. You know that Bucky is in there, too, and you need him to understand that you accept this. That it is not his fault. That you are ready to die if it is at his hands.

There is an unusual uncertainty in the Soldier’s eyes. You have seen footage of him, cold expression, a sort of stone-hearted efficiency about his movements, never a step too much. He has not moved yet. You feel every bit of skin on your feet connecting to the wooden floor as you move towards him, slowly, but steadily. If this is how you are meant to go, then you will.

You’re only three feet away from him as you stop. His eyes followed you all the way there. Now they start to flicker over your face, your body, confusion slowly but definitely showing in the crinkles on his forehead. He opens his mouth and you hold your breath.

“I –“, it comes out croaky, like he hasn’t used his voice in forever, so he clears his throat and starts again.

“I know you.”

Your lungs deflate, shakily. He hasn’t killed you yet. If he hasn’t killed you yet, why is he here? The Winter Soldier doesn’t hesitate. The uncertainty in his face sparks something deep, deep inside of you that you thought dead by now. Hope.

His eyes find their way back to your face and he is searching it now, not the stoic, cold mask of the Winter Soldier. You don’t dare speak. The fingers of his left hand flex with an electric whirr.

“I know you, but …” he trails off.

His right fist opens, fingers seemingly involuntarily reaching out. You step closer and lower yourself down, bare knees on the wood flooring, eyes not leaving his.

“I remember you.”

His voice is steadier now, more confident that he does, in fact, know you. That there is something inside his brain, something more than just the Soldier. More than just the missions. Just the trigger.

His hand, the real one, reaches towards your face and you close your eyes upon contact, a shaky breath leaving your lips. His index and middle finger trail across your cheekbone. Follow the curve of your lips. Trace your eyebrows. Your eyes flicker open and your breath gets caught in your throat because there he is, there he is, his eyes his own.

“Bucky –“

His name leaves your lips, a choked sob partially escaping. He blinks. Still, his eyes are his own. His lips part and then he whispers your name and you are certain this is a dream. A change of pace from the violent nightmares of late, but still a dream, because this can’t be true. How could it be.

But the hardwood floor is rough against your knees and his hand is warm against your cheek and he is there. He slides off the chair onto the ground before you and you feel hot tears spill from your open, disbelieving eyes. His other hand reaches for your face and then he’s holding you there, so unbelievably gentle, his eyes tortured and lined in purple but undeniably his own.

“You came back”, is the first real thing you say to him.

His thumb smoothes over the dark bruise under your eye, proof of sleepless nights and tired days.

“I’m so sorry”, is the first thing he says to you in his own voice.

You close your eyes, lids pushing tears over the edge and you let them drip down onto your bare thighs as you shake your head, a soft smile on your lips.

“There is nothing you need to be sorry about. None of this was your fault.”

“I – you’re hurt”, he states, matter-of-factly, and your eyes open again.

You try and put everything into your eyes, everything you feel, the hope, the relief, the love. Most of all the love.

“But you’re back. That’s all that matters. Do you hear me?”

His grey irises swim with regret and pain and fear and yet you see love in them. You gently touch your forehead to his and he sighs, eyelids fluttering closed.

“I love you, and you’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

The cold seeps into your body from the floor, your knees scraping against the hardwood. Neither of you dares to move, the calm of the situation too delicate, neither sure if this is real or just a particularly cruel dream. But it is too beautiful to disturb and so both of you remain where you are, hands gently touching the other. Thankful for this moment of peace.

Forgot my taglist consisting of one wonderful person: @mannien

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devildomdoofus · 3 years

Text

“Wheely Cool” - Part 2

“Wheely Cool” - Part 1 (brothers)

Author’s Note:

What a way to start off with the Undateables, huh?! I’m SO proud that it’s over Heelys... but also terrified because I‘m dreadful at writing things for them (well, the brothers too, come to think of it) 😣 it’s just.. my own headcanons for them clash with how I’d like for you guys to see them and both of those things clash wITH HOW/WHO THEY ACTUALLY ARE AND- sorry, I’m rambling and complaining 😅

But I hope you all can enjoy what I have for the Undateables so far and look forward to how I improve with them over the future! ❤️

Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF THIS LOVE AND SUPPORT!! I’ll be sure to do something in return for such kindness ❤️

- DevildomDoofus

👹Diavolo:

Heelys, you say? How very interesting. Please, do elaborate!

If there was a unique invention from the human world and you were interested in it, he was interested. Especially when they seemed so fascinating! Shoes with wheels that pop in and out? Incredible! He had to know more!

When you were telling him about the shoes, the history behind them, their integration into ‘pop culture,’ the memes about them, etc., he was hanging on to your every word.

Yes, he knew about roller skates and rollerblades, but not Heelys. Heelys were a different ballpark. But by the three realms he was going to try them for himself!

Immediately, he had Barbatos order him Akuzon truck loads of Heelys. For himself, for you, for the demon brothers, purgatory hall, the entire school, even Barbatos. He wanted EVERYONE to give them a try.

To be certain that all would participate, he issued a mandatory, all day class on Heelys, describing it as a well needed crash course on Human History.

Sometimes it’s fun being a prince.

First time with them on, he wibbled and wobbled for a few moments before finally getting a good grasp on the technique... and now, he was about to make it everyone’s problem.

Barbatos could feel a migraine approaching..

Diavolo never walked anywhere for a very, VERY long time. It was always him rolling through the doorway with a big smile on his face or scooting up to a group of his fellow, ‘higher up’ associates as their eyes grew wide at him. If he saw you wheeling through the hallways, he’d go toes up, roll your way, and high five you with a follow up of finger guns. He felt on top of the world.

Poor Barbatos had to do the same and use Heelys as his new work shoes.

Sorry Barbatos...

Diavolo thanked you for showing him this whole new world with even more truck load of deliveries of Heelys/Heelys accessories.

⏳Barbatos:

Sincerest apologies, but what might these Heelys be?

Showing him the pair that you had, you explained what they were in full detail and hoped that such a thing didn’t come off as ridiculous to an ancient demon butler who’s probably seen some pretty strange, human inventions over the years... maybe this wouldn’t sound so strange after all?

Unfortunately, it did, but it was for the same reasons as some of the other demons. He saw no use for such a thing when his own pair of feet worked just fine and he had incredibly powerful abilities involving time... needless to say, he’s a punctual man.

except for that ONE time

Heelys serve him no purpose.

He respectfully declines using them himself but is delighted that you have such a unique hobby. Plus, he thinks you look rather charming and happy, wheeling about wherever you pleased.

It made him happy too.

However, Diavolo inevitably caught wind of your cool, new pair of shoes and wanted to be involved.

Which led to Diavolo getting himself a pair.

and that led to him forcing Barbatos to do the same.

At first, they were highly inconvenient as they certainly didn’t allow him to go about his duties as gracefully as he did before, since there were now these chunky shoes with unsteady wheels attached to his feet.

As he was getting used to the new attire, he would often falter and spill things, break objects, or cause other types of destruction while also learning how to go about his daily routines with his shoes and feet constantly betraying him. It was a bit of a nuisance but nothing he couldn’t handle.

He’s dealt with far worse.

Over time, though, he had grown accustomed to them and somewhat appreciated their convenience when he wanted to get from point A to point B a little quicker.

Still, he prefered his original pairs of shoes because they were steady and didn’t weigh his feet down as much.

He asked Diavolo if he could return to his original attire. Diavolo allowed it but with a big pout on his face.

Barbatos thanked you for teaching him about Heelys and was honored to be a part of such an experience.

Just, please... don’t ask him to do it again.

🕊Simeon:

Sorry? Heelys? What does that mean?

Ahhh, how interesting. Humans come up with some of the most strangest and fascinating things.

He observed with curious eyes and an intrigued smile on his face as you explained and then demonstrated what Heelys were. He took the pair you offered him and examined them thoroughly. Finally, he looked back to you and asked politely, “May you teach me?”

Once he laced himself up and straightened out, you took his hand and led him forward, teaching him the ways of Heelys. Whenever he’d start to wobble, he’d chuckle a bit and then apologize for gripping your fingers so tightly.

Eventually, Simeon got the hang of them and could scoot around on his own as gracefully as he walked.

Luke watched as his fellow angel rolled around with his toes up and eyed him in awe... and a little bit in jealousy.

Of course, you had to get Luke a pair and teach him.

Before long, you three could be seen scooting down hallways, up and down streets, and doing little tricks all over the place. Wherever you went, you rolled.

And it made the brothers become green with envy

Or in this case, orange.

Simeon enjoyed Heelys enough to buy all three of you a matching set that had miniature angel wings on the sides of the shoes and wheels that lit up yellow, imitating the brightness of a halo.

He appreciated that you shared something like this with him and Luke and hoped that it would bring you three closer together.

👼🏻Luke:

Huh? Is that a human thing?

Whoa, no way!!

To say that he was shaking with excitement as you demonstrated what Heelys were, would be an understatement. The way you wheeled around so effortlessly and how cool you looked doing it? It made him want a pair of his very own.

He felt and looked like a kid on Christmas.

Please, please, please, PLEASE teach him?!

He eagerly slipped on some Heelys and waited impatiently for your demonstration. You pointed your toes up on one foot and pushed off with the other, letting it follow suit once you got some speed. Luke watched and tried his best to imitate it, but slipped and fell to the ground.

Ugh! It was too hard! and you made it look so easy...

This time, you took both of his hands in yours and told him to lift his toes up enough to let the wheels do the work as you pulled him along.

Hey! He’s doing it, he’s really doing it!

After a few attempts, he was able to move on his own, for the most part, and could even do basic turns.

Stopping was a different story but who’s counting?

Every once in a while he’d slip or bump into things because he was going way too fast and couldn’t stop, but he was far too excited to stop.

Immediately he scooted off in a wobbly fashion to show Simeon how cool he looked.

He ended up running into him, knocking them both to the floor. Simeon just laughed because Luke looked way too adorable when he was this happy and excited.

From then on, Luke would roll wherever he wanted to go, with Simeon being close by to catch him just in case he was about to crash into something or someone.

If Simeon couldn’t be around, you were in charge of ‘Puppy Duty’. But whenever Luke would look at you with those sparkling eyes filled with pure joy because of the gift you had given him of Heelys and wouldn’t stop thanking you for them, it didn’t seem like so much of a chore anymore.

🔮Solomon:

Ahhh, a person of culture. You have Heelys too?

In that case, what would you say to a little friendly competition?

Maybe it was the sophisticated way that Solomon carried himself or the insightful way that he spoke but... you didn’t really picture Solomon as a Heelys kind of guy?

Then again, this is Solomon we’re talking about. He probably has a Skipit, a Furby, Moon Shoes, and who knows what else, hidden away somewhere... you bet he had a Nokia, for sure!

Still, how did he know about Heelys in the first place?

The more you came to know of Solomon, the less it felt like you actually did.

So about that competition...

Fine, but what of the wager?

Solomon smirked and suddenly a feeling of uneasiness settled in your stomach.The words left his lips and you went stiff.

A date?!

Whatever could the counter wager be?!

A week with unlimited use of all of Solomon’s powers, huh?

DEAL.

You two stationed yourselves at one end of a very long hall with Asmo standing just ahead, two silk clothes in his hands, held above his head to imitate the ‘initiator’ at a drag race. The brothers, Simeon and Luke, even Diavolo and Barbatos showed up to watch how the race would unfurl.

Asmo gave the signal and off you went, making your way towards the finish line. Within seconds, Solomon started catching up to you and soon got a few feet ahead.

A date with the sorcerer was a couple of meters away and you were getting nervous.

That’s when a jealous Mammon panicked and pretended to faint, falling right onto Solomon’s side of the hall and dragging an angry Levi along with him. Solomon was about to hop over them with ease until he saw Beelzebub reaching for a piece of candy that was tossed out by Belphegor and had to put on the breaks to swerve around, slowing him down.

You were now catching up.

Still ahead of you, though, and getting closer to the finish line, Solomon was making headway...

Until Satan feigned anger towards his meddling brothers and punched a giant, gaping hole in the floor, right in Solomon’s way. Having taken notice, Lucifer leaped to shield Solomon from Satan’s wrath by flying in between them and using his wings from his demon form to block Solomon’s path..for ‘protection’, of course. Solomon had no choice but to stop as quickly as he could, taking a hard tumble to the floor and letting you zoom past him.

You made it over the finish line and from the other side of the hall, Asmo shouted “MC is the winner!”

For a moment, Solomon thought he could hear all of the brothers simultaneously sigh with relief.

Well... a deal was a deal.

But that didn’t stop Solomon from wanting rematch after rematch, just waiting for the day that he wins and gets a chance at what he’s wanted for a long time...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #otome #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me mc #obey me headcanons #mine #my posts #devildomdoofus

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theladyismyshepard · 3 years

Text

Mother Miranda

#7 prompt fill — Betrayal (Myra)

(Anonymous with a dream, you’re next)

The sun was at its highest peak in the sky, and unleashed its powerful rays upon every inch of the earth. It warmed your skin from the usual chill that lingered throughout the castle, making it feel like winter year round. The Dimitrescu family might be comfortable, but you needed the occasional reprieve that only straight sunlight could provide.

So there you were, sprawled along the grass of the courtyard, your fingers interlocked behind your head as support. Your eyes stared up at the clouds that idly floated away, but after a moment, they went unseen as your focus blurred and shifted to the way your morning had went so far.

A smile slowly twisted the edges of your lips upward, and you didn't fight it. You awoke to red hair in your line of vision, and became acutely aware of the lips peppering the column of your throat with kisses. You had to swallow the dryness from your mouth, and as you did, you felt her smile against your skin before she gently bit down, not even hard enough to bruise.

"Someone's in a good mood," you mumbled, still shaking off the layer of sleep that had you in a haze.

"That is every morning with you." said Myra easily, as if she were speaking of the weather.

You felt your heart pumping wildly in response, and as you briefly wondered if she could hear it, she answered in kind by grazing her fingertips across your chest before sprawling them out and lying her palm flat to your heart.

"Well then tell me what I can do to help keep up this good mood. What do you want to do today?" you asked kindly, nudging against her until she got the hint and rolled over to allow you to hover over her.

"Actually," started Myra, her face already morphing into apologetic. "Mother wants to speak with my sisters and I today. I must be going soon, but I couldn't resist."

You puffed out a small "oh", a little disappointed, but you quickly recovered, giving Myra a reassuring smile before surging forward and connecting your lips in a searing kiss, soothing the line forming between her eyebrows.

"I think I might get me some sunlight today then." you decided, nodding once for emphasis.

"Come find me after," she demanded, pulling you close by the front of your shirt to give one last kiss.

She rolled you off of her, and donned her hooded robe before taking her leave to undoubtedly collect her sisters for the meeting with Lady Dimitrescu. That was how you found yourself sunbathing in the courtyard. The warmth that tingled the top layer of your skin was easing you into alertness, warding off the sleep that left traces throughout your body. Although a thundering crash gave you an extra jolt.

You bolted upright, neck already craned in the direction of the disturbance. A crease formed between your brow when you recognized that the sound had come from Lady Dimitrescu’s office. Dread had you rooted to the spot as you eyed the window, expecting the worst.

You had been given free reign of the castle, but you do have the common sense to know that it is disrespectful to eavesdrop, and Lady Dimitrescu prides herself of her poise and respect. The occupants of the castle were expected to hold the same morals (though Daniela struggles). You knew you should wait and let someone explain when the meeting was done, but the crash was too violent to not respond to out of mere reflex.

You kept your footing light despite knowing they are aware of your presence by your scent and heartbeat alone, and crept along the courtyard until you found yourself ducked beneath the window sill outside of the office. You were uncertain if you had already been caught, but the conversation at hand must have been more dire than originally thought because after a moment, you remained undetected.

“To hell with the ceremony!”

It was so shrill that your brows couldn’t help but to disappear into your hairline. There was venom lacing every syllable of the shriek, and while you were no stranger to fury echoing down the corridors, you hardly heard such harshness come from Myra’s mouth. The silence of the room led you to believe that the other occupants were as stunned as you were.

“Myra-”

“No!”

You had to swallow down the gasp that bubbled in your throat, your hand thrown over your mouth as an added precaution. It was one thing for Myra to lash out, but to outright talk back to Lady Dimitrescu was something that seemed forbidden. If the two sharp intakes of breath that immediately followed were anything to go by, the sisters knew so as well.

“I am well aware that emotion is clouding your perception right now, but you do not ever raise your voice to me.” warned Alcina, her tone clipped.

There was a pause, and you could practically see Myra’s calculating nature taking over in your mind’s eye. The brief silence allowed for her mother to continue.

“As you are well aware, we cannot afford to cross Mother Miranda, especially when your fool uncle already has her on edge with his own mistakes... The ceremony must happen."

You had heard about a man named Ethan Winters evading Heisenberg, and while you didn’t understand the exact severity of it, you knew it was stirring trouble within the castle. It brought enough hesitancy to even have Alcina tentative to call Mother Miranda. What you were wracking your brain over was the ceremony that had prompted this argument. What had Myra so heated?

"Is there really no one else that will do?"

When people speak, you have always listened to the tones more so than the actual words, so you didn't miss the underlining desperation when Andromeda whispered.

What the hell's going on?

"No... I truly am sorry, Myra, it might not seem like I care, but it pains me greatly to have to take away your pet. Mother Miranda chose your human specifically."

You had long since gotten over being referred to as "pet" in the third-person by the Lady, but is she really to just discard of you as such? Your face went slack as it couldn't comprehend which emotion to show first. There was hurt, there was anger, there was fear, and it was coursing through your veins, pumping into your heart. Please don't hear me.

"Yes, mother,"

Betrayal.

There was no emotion in Myra's voice. It was a solid deadpan, and somehow you were able to hear everything she wasn't conveying to Alcina. You know Myra doesn't want to let you go, you know she isn’t allowed to have you lingering around... but you’re still going to be taken away for this ritual for Mother Miranda.

You thought you were something special to these women after your loyalty and adoration for Myra had you squeezing into the family. You thought you had solidified something... but you didn’t, and you wouldn’t mean anything after time had eased you from their memories, something to be forgotten.

This is what I get for eavesdropping, I suppose.

You began to lose your inhibitions as nothing really mattered to you in that moment — Remaining unseen, going unheard, you had no care, not when it appeared as though you were on borrowed time as it was. You gazed back up at the clouds idly floating by and realized that although your world felt as though it was at a standstill, reality would continue on with or without you.

All thoughts of sunbathing had drifted from your mind as you wandered towards the gate at the edge of the property. The exit was just within your sight, and you could run before they thought to chase after you...

Myra.

You turned back to Castle Dimitrescu, a war raging inside of you. You had nowhere else to turn to, and honestly... where could you run? Who could possibly hide you when Mother Miranda had her eyes set on you? It all felt unfair, but you suppose it was bound to happen when you fell in love with a woman whose family’s basement had enough standing blood that it submerged to the calf.

You always wondered when it would be your turn to hang from the ceiling down below, and it came a lot sooner than you had prepared for. You sighed so heavily that it had you closing your eyes. What were you supposed to do now? You could only stand there aimlessly, no real purpose driving you forward.

But you suppose you should start walking back, but suddenly it took everything in you to slowly inch forward, step by step. You had never appreciated walking before... breathing in fresh air... living.

The castle door swung open to reveal none other than the woman who occupied your entire mind. Her back was stiff and she couldn’t keep her hands still. As you approached, you stilled them. Her eyes locked onto yours and there was so much screaming inside of them that she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

“Where to now, hun?”

Her lips set into a hard line, but you know by now that that was her tell when she was about to cry; Her chin always wobbled when she couldn’t contain it anymore.

“We... we are throwing a party.” whispered Myra.

“Oh?” you acted surprised. “When is it?”

She stared down at her feet as she said, “Tonight.”

Your breath was stolen from you, almost like she punched you square in the gut. How could they? That quick? As if you never meant anything at all... You gulped.

“That short notice, eh?” The tremble was getting harder to hide. “What are we waiting for? Can’t keep everyone waiting — speaking of! Who’ll be coming?”

“Only the most important people,” deadpanned Myra, showing no enthusiasm. “Let’s ... get this over with.”

The smile you plastered on was all wrong, it didn’t feel right on your face; completely uncomfortable. The curves were too forced to slip into genuine and natural. Just get it over with... like a bandaid.

You wanted her to fight, wanted her to be angry, wanted her to feel as lost as you, but the emotionless mask she was wearing had you feeling betrayed. She accepted this so easily... she could find a replacement for you before the ceremony was even over.

“Let’s get it over with.”

***

All traces of sunlight were erased from the sky as the moon blanketed darkness across the land. The hours had flown by before you could really blink even, and you were left wondering where the time went.

You and Myra had met up with Daniela and Andromeda inside the castle, and you found that they didn’t have much to say either. However, all three stared you down the entire day. You could feel their eyes boring into you throughout preparing you for the ceremony... no one else had a dress code it seemed. Your white robe contrasted against their black ones, making you stand out as you stood among them.

Myra had offered to bring you a tray full of food, any kind you wanted, but the knots in your stomach couldn’t uncurl enough to allow you to eat a single bite. Your heart dropped even further when you saw her face fall when you denied.

She’s the one doing this to you. To us.

You hardened, pressing on through the day, and before you knew it, you found yourself sitting with the sisters in Myra’s bedroom, just waiting as your time was dwindling. Soon, you could hear Lady Dimitrescu’s heels clacking down the staircase and to the door when there was a sharp rap. One glance out the window and you see that night had fallen.

Myra had become hyper aware of that fact as well, and the nervous energy she held just below the surface was oozing out in waves. Daniela and Andromeda hovered, obviously on edge themselves, but the eldest sister was shooing them away once she noticed you had started trembling.

“My love,” Myra whispered, reaching for your hand. You flinched. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

Your eyes connect, and it was the softest you had ever really seen them. Your vision blurred, and you didn’t even try to stop the tears as they clung to your lashes before you blinked and they spilled down your cheeks, leaving tracks. You gave her a smile that wobbled.

“What’re you gonna do? Kill me?”

The soft smile you’ve come to love waking up to was gone too quick for your liking, and you briefly wondered if that was the last time you’d get to see it. You were seated on the foot of your shared bed, Myra standing before you. You accepted the hands that cupped the back of your neck and the side of your throat, reeling you in.

“I have to do this, please.” The first tear broke free, and you reached up to brush it away with your thumb.

“I know,”

Teeth embedded themselves into your neck, and you couldn’t help the yelp of pain as you felt your flesh tear away. A hiss escaped you as you felt suction, and while you could kind of get into it when the moment is heated, this felt different, wrong.

You felt lightheaded from your blood rushing, but you also burned from the inside out. You’d tear into your own skin if Myra wasn’t holding onto you with a death grip. Your throat stung as well and only then did you realize that your hiss had turned into a scream.

You felt sick to your stomach, but you could tell it was your organs failing you. You could barely keep your eyes open, too weak to fight against the heaviness of your eyelids. You weren’t even aware that she was leaning you back against the bed. You weren’t aware of your blood adding color to your white robe and spilling out into your bedsheets. You weren’t aware of the tears adding wetness to your neck. You merely closed your eyes and accepted the darkness creeping into the edges of your vision.

...

Until you bolted upright in bed, sending Myra toppling back onto the floor. There was a burning sensation in your throat that left you with a haze settled around your brain, unable to focus on anything else.

Not the oxygen that you didn’t require, not the change of your iris color, not even your heightened sense of smell.

A hand cupped your chin, forcing you to look up, and you met worried eyes. She had never looked more beautiful, and you told her as much, relishing in that megawatt smile that you thought you had lost.

“I will never let anyone take you away from me.” Myra vowed, leaving you floored.

Oh how easily you had doubted her love for you before. You felt so foolish for second guessing her now that you stood there, completely reformed for her, by her. You had felt so weighed down by being betrayed that your body completely bounced back and had you feeling ten times lighter.

“Not even Mother Miranda?” You pushed, though you couldn’t rid yourself of your grin.

“Did I not just prove to you that not even Mother Miranda can take my pet away?” she asked, attempting to sound oh so innocently.

“You’re a little brat.”

Before she could get a word in, you pulled her closer to you, capturing her lips into a searing kiss. Nothing seemed impossible or scary in that moment. Not even the notorious Mother Miranda waiting downstairs could stir fear into you. You had eternity to face her after all.

“I love you, you know?”

Myra smiled softly before pulling you into a hug, tucking her face into your neck. A gentle kiss was placed upon the bite mark that turned you.

“You have forever to tell me, now.”

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu's daughters headcanons #lady dimitrescu's daughters #lady dimitrescu’s daughters x reader #Myra #prompt fill #daniela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #mother miranda #lady alcina dimitrescu

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aerialflight · 3 years

Text

Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Podcasts #The Magnus Archives #Supernatural #Avatar The Last Airbender #Naruto #The Magicians #Game of Thrones #Haikyuu!!#Crossover #Matilda #Welcome to Night Vale #Harry Potter #Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them #Katekyou Hitman Reborn

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empires-recap · 3 years

Text

Shubble Episode 17 Recap

Link: Empires SMP #17 | XORNOTH SHOWED ME THE FUTURE OF EMPIRES | Shubble

Runtime: 23:19 (2319! We’ve got a 2319! Sorry I’m a nerd I’ll leave)

Date of Release: September 14th, 2021

Other Players Featured: Xornoth (No captions in video, translation provided), fWhip

Note: The way Shubble does Empires is her videos are typically stream highlights. As someone who actively watches Shubble’s streams, some extra context may be provided in italics. Chat will be referred to as such. Cross outs will be my personal commentary.

Intro and Revenge Arc: Shubble opens the video by talking about how she want’s to get revenge on Joey and Sausage. Joey is obvious since he killed her because of Xornoth. She also blames the Creeper death of her original parrot to Joey. She does later show the replacement parrot later. She wants revenge on Sausage because of his instrumental role in killing the dragon and freeing Xornoth. She wears the angry wolf head as a disguise/mask so as not to be recognized. She doesn’t want to do anything drastic this time, just a warning. She believes all people are beyond saving, except maybe Joey. After arriving at Joey’s base with the dark oak signs she made, she realizes they’re too dark and heads off to find some glow squid ink sacs to make it more readable. At Joey’s she also sees hers and fWhip’s head on the wall.

Xornoth Logs on - After getting the sacs she heads to her skeleton spawner to repair her elytra so she can fly to Joey and Sausage’s (girl please put Unbreaking III on it it would help SO much.). As she gets out of the minecart she see the chat message that Xornoth has logged on just as it begins to fade. She become even more scared when she realizes it is only her and Xornoth online.

<Xornoth> >:)

<ShubbleYT> go away

As she leaves the mine, she finds the path up blocked by stone. Xornoth’s head pops out as she breaks ground. He also puts lava down at the entrance which she blocks with cobble. She digs a side path that links to a nearby pond and Xornoth looks at her as she swims up. There is some eye contact before he disappears. She gets defensive as a tentacle wraps around her castle. The ground then begins to die, more tentacles sprout up in front of her, and the sky grows dark with a storm. She heads down to the fairy circle, Lord of Mars and Lord of Saturn in tow. Shubble is blinded and she and Xornoth exchange words (his responses below). She wonders what else he wants now that the dragon is destroyed. He wants destruction and, besides what she has seen, there is plenty more to come. She replies that they are going to defeat him, if they can get all the kingdoms together against him. Gem helpfully /s replies in chat “no we’re deffo gonna sit back and take it” She blames him for Joey and partly sausage, who Xornoth says was already corrupted before he arrived. She says they found a way to cure it, but Xornoth reminds her that that was when he wasn’t at full power. He then calls her out for not protecting her kindom, attacking her golems and poisoning Lord of Saturn. She mounts the Mother Wolf, Lady Sun, and warns Xornoth to not come closer. He says she can’t do anything, none of them can do anything, and kills Lord of Mars (o7). She vows that Xornoth that he will pay, calling herself the angriest wolf spirit of them all.

The Temptations: The grass is restored, but Shubble thinks it was only a glimpse of what he can do. Xornoth then appears in front of her, but quickly disappears before he can do anything. She says that she was going to get revenge, but she knows now that’s only going to fuel him more. He appears by the Mother Wolf and Shubble rushes to protect her. She stakes claim to the land while riding her, calling it her forest. He then appears on her castle, which makes Shubble call him a horrible leader whose only friends he bullied. He denies it, saying they simply chose the side that will win. She counters saying that they were corrupted and that they wouldn’t choose him if they had free will. Xornoth tries tests that theory, temporarily gifting her with regeneration, strength, and resistance. He shows her the power she could wield by allowing her to one-shot a zombie (it was originally a villager who spawned, but Shubble refused since he was an innocent man), and playing into her need to protect her people and kingdom. She seems a little swayed, but stands firm. She says that a leader earns the respect of their people and she won’t loose sight of it because of the power he gifted her. She then calls him out for what he is: a sad, sad spirit that lost who keeps being reborn angrier and angrier because no one really loves you so you make them fear you. He then says wonders why he needs love when he can do this.

<ShubbleYT> fell out of the world

The Warnings: Shubble finally gets the time to dig a grave for Lord of Mars, who valiantly fought by her side. But she admits that Xornoth was right and that Joey and Sausage are running rampant and need to be reminded that there will be consequences of their own actions. She leaves a message in front of Joey’s Fire Temple and Sausage’s Dark Tower: You have angered the forest dwelling spirits. Repent or you’ll face the consequences - Wolf Spirit. She then lights both up with glow ink sacs and red dye. She also thinks of an idea of her becoming the wolf spirit, combining her spirit with Lord of the Moon’s to become a hybrid to be better fit to lead her people and her wolves. The next day, she logs on and finds these crystal or portal things floating above her base.

Mushroom House Build and Ending: She spends most of the rest of the video building a mushroom house for her people, using the same base design from her coven house from X Life SMP by Dad’s Guide on YouTube. She builds it accidentally right next to one of the tentacles, picking away at it as needed with her hands before it disappears entirely about halfway through. Any corruption went into the corruption box at her base. There is a point where she died from landing too hard with her elytra, which lands her at spawn since the loft bed at her base is considered obstructed. She tries to run back but takes enough damage especially with the lack of food not regenerating her health that she dies again by falling on a stalagmite. fWhip, who was lurking in stream quickly logs on to help get her stuff back since he thinks she died at his base. He was taking the bins out irl and missed the first death. She then finishes the build’s exterior and ends the video by saying how much she loves this server and this village and her builds and that she never wants to loose it.

Xornoth Translation (? = unsure) (Any break ups of dialogue are done because someone talked between speech, does not include video cuts)

“Hiya”

“Hi” (x2)

“I want destruction”

“You’ll see there’s plenty”

“[laughter] I’d like to see you try.”

“Well that involves you all working together, which you CANT.”

“That man [Sausage] was already corrupted before I showed up.”

“It’s cute you think that will work. You cured it [the corruption] before I was at full power.”

“There’s not much brain between you all.”

“Look at you, cowering in a circle in a hole. Hastier? to defend your own empire. Just like you wouldn’t defend you’re own people.” (The amount of times I listened to this line and only heard Tastier is more than I’d like to admit.)

“You sure?”

“Your Empire’s citizens have some hearts too”

“Your wolves’ hearts will crush easily in my fist enough.”

“That poor? little puppy can’t do anything to me now. You can’t come together to defend your own empires, let alone each other’s.”

“And [Lord of] Mars will pay for it.”

“Mars is dead.”

“I’m sure you don’t say.”

~~~

“They joined the side that will win.”

“The side that gives them POWER.”

“You sure you don’t want the power?”

“You could be unstoppable. Never lose your home again.”

“Why would I take your home if you’re working with me?”

“I can give you something to punch.”

“No, but you can punch this.”

“Fine. Look, 1 hit. You can crush your enemies in your fist. Never be bullied again. No one would ever make fun of your height.”

“People would fear you, people would BOW DOWN to you. Isn’t that what you want … as a ruler?”

“Fear, love. All the same. Gets the job done.”

“Who needs love when I can do this?”

#empires smp #empiressmp #empires recap #shubble recap #xornoth feautured #xornoth translation #fwhip featured #shubble episode 17

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